Two Souls
by Kendris
Summary: Torn away from everything familiar to him, Talon must seek new allies in his quest to find Imoen, yet even as he searches, he finds that his feelings for the girl who has always been like a sister to him are changing.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Like I needed another story to keep up with. I should have known better than to start another BG2 game. Decided to try out one of the NPC mods and started with the Imoen romance. A few quibbles with the execution, but on the whole, highly entertaining, and of course, plot bunny generating. Be going with a (mostly) different crew of NPC's and hitting some of the scenarios that I missed in WMTM, so hopefully it won't be too repetitious. BTW, does anyone have any suggestions for good romance mods for female NPC's? On second thought…don't tell me. My active story queue is more than long enough._

* * *

The raging storm had blown itself out during the night, and the first silver light of dawn illuminated the damage that the driving winds and torrential rains had left in their wake. Leaves torn free from their moorings fluttered in the breeze or lay in soggy piles against the trunks of trees. The trees themselves had suffered broken branches, and more than one sapling had been completely uprooted. 

Talon made his way unsteadily through the aftermath, his head still aching and vision slightly blurred from the falling branch that had knocked him unconscious as he had fled the night before.

_Fled._

Shame flooded through him at the thought. While it was true that Gorion had ordered him to run, his voice sounding as it never had before: commanding, powerful, and determined, yet terrified, as well, Talon knew in his heart that he would have run regardless. The towering figure that had confronted them as they left Candlekeep had made his bowels turn to water with a single, blazing glance. All his training with the guards, all the confidence that had filled him after he had killed his would-be assassin in the barracks, all his youthful bravado had vanished like a drop of water flung onto a hot skillet.

_Run or die._

As powerful as Gorion's voice had been, the voice of his own terror had been stronger. If the man who had spent nearly eighteen years raising Talon as his own had begged the boy to stay and assist him, he would have kept running. The only thing that had stopped him had been the falling branch. He had awakened soaked to the skin, shivering with cold, and had lain there in the mud for he knew not how long, his mind hammering him with the memory of every running step he had taken.

He was a coward, and he eventually dragged himself to his feet to face the consequences of his cowardice. Gorion was dead; he was certain of that. His father would have found him if he were alive. He would never have abandoned him. Gorion was no coward.

He came upon the clearing where the ambush had occurred more quickly than he expected; it felt as though he had run forever before falling. He paused at the edge of the clearing, all senses alert to any danger, but only corpses remained: the two ogre mages who had attacked first, and –

_No…Torm, please no…_

The rain had washed away all blood, mercilessly revealing the damage that had been done. A single, brutal slash of a sword, moving diagonally from the left shoulder across the chest, had nearly cut Gorion in half, leaving the ruin of his heart and lungs exposed, the white bones of his ribcage jutting from the pale red of the torn muscle. His blue eyes were open, filled with rain, and his hair and beard were wet and matted. Talon dropped to his knees beside the body, closing his eyes against the sight. There was no peace in that beloved face; Gorion had died in pain and fear, and it was these emotions that formed his death mask, twisting his features into an unfamiliar countenance…the last memory that Talon would have of him.

"Heya!"

Talon's eyes popped open, and scrambled to his feet, turning to intercept the auburn-haired girl who had bounded from the trees before she could see the ruin of Gorion's body.

Too late.

Imoen stood frozen, the color draining from her face, her ever present smile vanishing, to be replaced with an expression of disbelieving horror as she stared, wide-eyed, at the body on the ground.

"Don't look at it, Im," he told her, interposing himself between her and the grisly scene, but she tried to push by him.

"No!" she cried out, struggling angrily as he sought to hold her back. "I've got healing potions, Talon! He needs help, he –"

"He's dead, Imoen," Talon forced himself to say, taking her by the arms and turning her to face him, forcing her to look into his eyes…forcing himself to look back. "He's been dead since last night. Healing potions won't help him."

She resisted, shaking her head violently and trying to pull away, then collapsed against him suddenly, burying her face in his chest and sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, laying his cheek against her hair and wishing that his own tears could fall. Even after a man had tried to kill him yesterday, Talon had never really considered that he could come to harm so long as Gorion was with him. Torm forgive him, he had even felt excitement and anticipation as they had left the walls of Candlekeep yesterday, thinking only of finally leaving the sheltering walls of the scholarly redoubt and seeking the adventures that he had daydreamed about. Now Gorion was dead, and the ease with which he had evidently been slain by the mysterious assailant made it clear just how foolish his notions had been, and how vulnerable he now was.

How vulnerable they both were…

"Why did you follow us?" he demanded suddenly, holding her at arm's length and giving her a little shake.

"Why did you leave me?" she shot back, glaring up at him with red, swollen eyes. "You said we'd always be together. You promised…and then you go sneaking out in the middle of the night! If I hadn't found that letter –" She broke off, staring at the ground.

"What letter?" She tried to pull away from him, but he maintained his grip. "Imoen, what letter?"

"Don't know who it was from," she whispered, still not looking at him. "He just signed his name with an 'E', but he said that you were in danger and that Gorion should get you away from Candlekeep quick. I saw Gorion packing, so I snuck into his study and found the letter on his desk."

Talon was still. Yesterday, the rider had come through on his weekly circuit delivering mail through the region. It was a routine occurrence, so he had given it little thought at the time, but it had been little more than an hour after the rider had departed that Gorion had summoned him, bidding him ready himself for a quick departure and instructing him to tell no one of their intent, especially not Imoen. The mage had been quite firm on that matter.

One hour.

"Come on." He began striding purposefully back toward Candlekeep, dragging her by one arm, his eyes seeing assassins behind every tree.

"Ow! Talon, slow down!" Imoen cried out, stumbling as she tried to match the pace his much longer legs had set. "What're you doing? You know they won't let us back in without Gorion."

"They'll let _you_ back in," he said grimly. He'd see to it that they did, no matter what. "Winthrop can –"

He got no further, because she launched herself at his back, tiny fists pounding at his shoulders and head.

"No!" she shouted at him, all her sorrow turned to fury in an instant. "You are _not_ leaving me in this place to be an indentured slave to Puffguts for the rest of my life!"

He tripped over a tree root, staggered and fell. She was on him almost before he hit the ground, flipping him onto his back with surprising strength and pinning him to the ground with a knee in his chest.

"You leave me there, and I swear I'll run off by myself as soon as you're gone," she vowed, her grey eyes narrowed to slits. "I swear I will."

He could have thrown her off easily; he'd done it dozens of times in their playful tussles. She was the more agile, but he was considerably stronger. "Imoen, this isn't some game. Gorion is dead, and the man who did it was after me."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better about you going off alone?" she asked him incredulously. "I know Gorion's dead, damn it! I saw him, and that makes you the only family I've got left now." She pushed herself off of him and stood, running a shaky hand through her hair, staring back at the walls of Candlekeep, just visible over the tops of the trees. "I'm not staying there, Talon," she said with quiet resolution. "I've never belonged there…not really. If you don't want me with you, that's fine; I'll go somewhere else –"

"It's not that," he said quickly, getting to his feet and hugging her. "It's just that…whoever it was, he was strong enough to kill a mage as powerful as Gorion. I…" His head dropped in shame. "I ran," he admitted in a whisper. "I left Gorion there alone. I've never been so afraid of anyone or anything in my life. Something about him was wrong…evil, like nothing I've ever felt before. I just don't think that I'm good enough with a sword, or brave enough, to protect you."

He waited for her reaction, for the revulsion and disgust at his revelation of cowardice, but she simply looked up at him with a wink and a wan version of her usually impish smile. "Guess I'll just have to protect you then, big brother," she said, returning the hug, laying her head against his chest. "And don't try telling me that Gorion didn't tell you to run."

"He did," Talon admitted slowly, "but-"

"But nothing," she cut him off, poking him in the chest with a finger and looking up at him sternly. "If he could kill someone like Gorion, there was nothing that you could do to stop him. He just would have killed you, too. Our best chance is to stick together."

Her words made a certain amount of sense, and despite his fear for her, the familiarity of her presence was comforting. "Our best chance is to join with others," he said, taking her hand and leading her back the way they had come. "Gorion mentioned that there were people waiting for us at the Friendly Arms Inn, friends of his from the Harpers. He said that if we were to –" he trailed off, realizing that his father had been fully aware of the possibility of his own death. "If we were separated," he pushed on resolutely, "I was supposed to go there and meet them. Their names are Khalid and Jaheira," he added after a moment of thought. "Maybe they'll know who attacked us and why."

"Sounds good," Imoen agreed. They had arrived back in the clearing, both of them trying not to look directly at Gorion's body. "We should get going."

Talon shook his head. "We need to bury him. I'm not going to just leave him here for the vultures."

"Talon, the ground here is mostly rock; it'll take us until midnight," she told him, her voice reasonable, though her expression said plainly that the words came hard to her. "We're close enough to Candlekeep; they'll find him and give him a proper burial." Seeing the stubborn set of his jaw, she continued. "What're we gonna do if we're hip deep in a hole and the monster that did this comes back?"

His shoulders sagged. She was right; his first duty was getting her to the safety of the Friendly Arms Inn and the protection of Gorion's allies, and the mage would have been the first to tell him so. He knelt beside the body, forcing himself to take the coins that remained in the belt pouch, but although he knew that the items would bring a good price, he could not bring himself to take Gorion's staff and rings. Let them be buried with him. Pulling off his own cloak, he spread it gently over the body; as the face of his father vanished from view beneath the grey cloth, Talon felt something inside himself break, and he knelt over Gorion, sobbing as he had not since childhood.

Imoen knelt beside him, gentle arms drawing him to her, and he buried his face against her neck, feeling her tears mingling with his own as they held each other. Gradually the tears slowed, then finally stopped. Imoen got to her feet, taking his hand in hers and urging him up.

"C'mon, Talon. It's getting late. We'd better get going. C'mon."

_C'mon…_

_C'mon…_

"Come _on_! Wake up! We've gotta get out of here!"

Talon struggled to open his eyes; the pain in his head was blinding, his muscles were on fire, and it felt as though his joints had been replaced with broken glass. He knew the voice, though.

"Imoen?" His voice was ragged, hoarse, his mouth bone-dry. "What…where?"

"He messed with your head, too, huh?" Something was wrong…something in her tone. He forced his eyelids apart and sat straight up, ignoring the searing pain that flared through every fiber of his body.

She was thin to the point of emaciation, dark circles under eyes that were wide with anxiety and shadowed with fear and pain. Her hair was unkempt, tangled and matted with what appeared to be dried blood, her clothes ragged and filthy. As his vision swam into focus, he could see the scar running down the right side of her face, a wound that looked to have missed her eye by the narrowest of margins.

Anger surged through him, making him forget about his own pain. "Who did this to you? Where are we?" He frowned, struggling to grasp at memories that remained frustratingly elusive. Sarevok was dead…they had been leaving Baldur's Gate, going to Candlekeep to visit Gorion's grave…and then? "What happened?"

"We got jumped just outside Baldur's Gate," Imoen replied, her hands busy with the lock on the cage that confined him. "I don't remember much more…don't think I want to remember." Her hands trembled visibly before she steadied herself. "He's been…doing things to us, Talon…I could hear you screaming…"

"He?" His brow furrowed as one figure began to drift to the front of his mind. A man, wielding magic with the casual ease of one long adept in the arcane, inflicting pain, observing the results with almost clinical detachment.

_You have much untapped power…_ The flat, emotionless voice echoed in his mind. "What does he want with us? Where are the others?" Jaheira and Khalid had been with them when they had left Baldur's Gate, as had Dynaheir and Minsc.

"I don't know," Imoen replied miserably. "You're not the only one I heard screaming …but I haven't heard anyone but you for over a day. We've got to get out of here now, Talon! He's distracted; there's been some kind of attack, and the fighting's still going on. My cage got damaged so I could get out, but if he locks me back up again…" She shook her head, clenching her fists. "It hurts so bad…it's like my bones have all turned to daggers, and it won't stop…" She gritted her teeth, returning her attention to the lock, and at last, there was a sharp _click_, and the door swung open. "Let's get out of here, Talon…now…please? I'm scared; I feel so strange…"

"It's all right, little sister," he replied, pulling himself to his feet, forcing himself to ignore the pain. He had to take care of Imoen and the others. "We'll find the others and leave this place." He reached out to take her hand, give it a reassuring squeeze.

His hand passed through hers as though it were nothing but smoke.

He looked up at her in shock, tried again with the same result.

"Talon?" Imoen's eyes were filled with confusion and terror, and he saw with horror that she was beginning to fade; he could see the walls of the dungeon through her form. "Talon, what's happening?"

"Im!" he shouted, making a desperate grab for her, his questing arms touching only air. "Imoen!"

"Talon!" she screamed, but her voice was fading along with her body. "Talon, don't let him take me! Help me! Talon!"

_Talon!_

_Talon!_

"Talon!"

He came awake with a cry, reaching out blindly to clutch at the hand that had shaken him.

"Talon!" He was shaken again, harder this time. "You're dreaming again!"

He sat up, breathing hard and feeling the sweat that had soaked the sheets. In the dim light of the moon that shone through the window, he could see Yoshimo, standing as far back as was possible, his arm outstretched cautiously. He had good reason to be wary; the first time that he had tried to rouse Talon from his nightmares, the young warrior had nearly killed him before coming fully awake.

Just Yoshimo. As always, upon awakening, the enormity of his loss came crashing down on him, the pain as fresh as ever. Khalid, Jahiera, Dynaheir, Minsc, even Boo…all dead. He and Imoen had found their bodies one by one as they struggled to escape the hellish lair where Irenicus had held them. The name of their captor was by and large all that they had managed to learn about him, beyond what seemed to be a penchant for cruelty beyond even Sarevok's capabilities. Each mangled corpse had torn away another piece of his heart, but the final blow had been the harshest.

_Talon, help me! Don't let them take me!_

Imoen's terror-stricken face as she realized the intent of the wizards who had appeared around them was seared into his mind, as was the memory of his hand grabbing wildly at the empty air where she had been only moments before. The wizards had taken her, along with Irenicus; she had attacked the mage with her magic, fighting with a fearful desperation that he had never before seen in her, and the ones who had appeared, the Cowled Wizards, Yoshimo had informed him later, had seemed not to care that she had acted in self defense, terrified of being imprisoned by him again.

He had already been in a weakened state from the torture that he had endured in his captivity, and from the fighting in their arduous path to the surface; the loss of Imoen had pushed him perilously close to the mental breaking point, as well. Yoshimo had managed to get him to a nearby inn, using what gold they had brought out with them and all of his persuasive power to convince the proprietor of the upscale establishment to rent them two rooms.

They had been there for the last four days, Talon slowly recovering while Yoshimo moved around the city of Athkatla, selling their surplus gear, buying healing potions and supplies, and nosing about as discreetly as possible. Talon didn't bother to ask how the Kara-Turan had gotten into his locked room; the other man seemed to never sleep, and picking locks appeared to be as instinctive to him as it had been to…

He lay back, closing his eyes, trying to will away the memory of her face as he had last seen it, the way he continued to see it in his dreams. "Thanks, Yoshimo," he managed.

Yoshimo merely shrugged modestly. He invariably brushed off Talon's expressions of gratitude, saying that it was the least that he could do in return for being assisted in escaping Irenicus' dungeon. Talon knew full well, however, that they likely would not have made it out at all without the older, more experienced man's aid, and he was grateful for Yoshimo's continued presence. Being completely alone would have been unbearable.

"More dreams of Irenicus?" Yoshimo asked, crouching beside the bed. The first three nights had been filled with nightmares of the mage taunting him, daring him to use the power of Bhaal, dangling Imoen and the others before him as bait, then snuffing out their lives with a careless gesture.

Talon shook his head. "Not this time," he said quietly. "Just me and Imoen. First outside Candlekeep, where I found Gorion's body, then in the dungeon, when she picked the lock on my cage. I reached for her, but she faded…screaming for me to help her." He had told the thief much of his life in the preceding days, unwilling to let another share the risk of his company without full knowledge of what it entailed. Yoshimo had accepted the fact that he was the child of the dead god of murder with surprising equanimity, but then, as far as Talon had been able to determine, the Kara-Turan was completely unflappable.

The other man nodded understandingly. "A natural consequence of feeling helpless," he observed. "Your recovery is almost complete now; I think that in the morning, we should be able to begin following up the information that I have obtained so far. The activity will do your mind some good, I think. You have had far too much time to brood."

"That's an understatement," Talon murmured fervently. He had always been strong and healthy; the weakness caused by the damage that Irenicus had inflicted on him had been unprecedented, and the healing potions had to be administered judiciously. They would undoubtedly need them later, as well, so he had been forced to rest and allow his body to recover largely on its own, while his mind screamed at him to find Imoen and avenge the deaths of his friends.

_I killed Sarevok, you bastard, and I'll kill you, too,_ he vowed silently, but doubts assailed him almost immediately. He would never have been able to kill Sarevok without the assistance of his companions, and he was alone now…except for Yoshimo.

"Do you really think we'll be able to find where they've taken her?" he asked, unable to suppress a slight tremor in his voice.

"We will," Yoshimo said decisively, giving a firm nod for emphasis. "I swear to you upon my family's honor that I will not leave your side until you have been reunited with your sister."

"Thank you," Talon said again, though such paltry words seemed pathetically inadequate in return for the oath that the Kara-Turan had just given. "I don't know what I would have done without your help so far; I can't even begin to repay –"

"In my homeland, family is revered above all," Yoshimo replied before he could finish. "To see you together with your sister once again will be all the reward that I need. Sleep now, my young friend," he said, squeezing Talon's shoulder lightly as he stood. "Tomorrow, our hunt begins in earnest."

He left, and Talon heard the faint click of the lock engaging. Rolling over, he waited to drift back to sleep, hoping that the nightmares were over for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: This story was inspired by Mirrabo's Imoen Romance mod. Talon is my creation; all other characters belong to BioWare._

* * *

Talon followed Yoshimo through the crowded Bridge District; the Kara-Turan had made good use of the time that the warrior had been bedridden, reacquainting himself with the City of Coin, and he maneuvered them confidently in the direction of the Government District.

"It would be best to begin there," he had told Talon over breakfast that morning. "The Cowled Wizards are headquartered there, as is local law enforcement."

"You're not wanted here for anything, are you?" Talon had asked him with a faint smile that he hoped hid the very real concern underlying the question. The older man had been vague as to his occupation, but it was plain that his skills lay in areas traditionally frowned on by the majority of society.

Yoshimo had returned the smile with a sly one of his own. "That would mean that I had been caught, my friend, and that is something that has not occurred since I was much younger than you!"

Talon glanced around as he walked, alert for trouble. As a child in Candlekeep, cities had seemed to him to be glittering realms of activity and adventure; two years of travel had dispelled all his illusions. Baldur's Gate had been a hive of corruption and intrigue, with the upper classes living comfortably off the backs of the laboring poor, and he had quickly decided that he preferred the smaller towns: Nashkel, or even Beregost. The different class divisions were still present, but the lines were not so starkly drawn, and rarely was there the crushing poverty that was seen in the slums of the cities. The people were friendlier, the taverns places to relax and enjoy the tales and songs of the locals.

The Mithrest Inn had been filled with bustling people, all of them too intent upon their own business to pay any mind to the person at the next table, let alone the droning bard at the back of the common room, whose lackluster delivery made it plain that he knew full well that no one was paying attention to his performance. The overall atmosphere had done nothing to improve Talon's mood, and he was determined to find another place to stay as soon as possible.

Someone in the crowd jostled him, and he dropped his hand instinctively to check his belt pouch, only to realize that he had automatically secured it beneath his tunic, as Khalid had taught him.

_Khalid_. The weight of loss threatened to crush him, and it was willpower alone that kept him walking behind Yoshimo instead of dropping to his knees and howling his anguish to the skies like a wolf. There had been others that had traveled with him and Imoen; he had parted with some regretfully, others eagerly. Kivan, Branwen, Xzar and Montarron, and many others in the time since he had left Candlekeep, but four had been with them from the beginning. Khalid and Jaheira: an unlikely-seeming pair, but unquestionably devoted to each other and to the promise they had made to Gorion. Jaheira's sharp tongue and acerbic demeanor had daunted him at first, but her criticisms had eased as he had shown himself willing to accept her counsel. She had looked less favorably on Imoen's irrepressible merriment, but the little rogue proved immune to her scathing comments, and the druid had eventually settled into weary resignation…tinged with an affection that she was careful never to display too openly.

Khalid had been as patient and tolerant as his wife was opinionated and abrasive, working tirelessly with Talon, teaching the young warrior not to rely solely on his strength in combat. The stutter that slowed his speech did not extend to his mind; it was he who had provided instruction on the intricacies of tactics and strategy, as well as the importance of vigilance and observation, and knowing how to avoid a fight, as well as win one.

The two half-elves had been their only companions when they had encountered Minsc outside of Nashkel and helped him to rescue Dynaheir from the gnolls that had captured her. The two Rashemi had been as oddly matched as Khalid and Jaheira, though their bond was one of friendship and duty, rather than romance. Minsc, as good-hearted as he was simpleminded, had been the first man Talon had met who exceeded him in height, and he had been an enthusiastic sparring partner, as well as knowing techniques with the two-handed sword that Khalid was unfamiliar with. The massive blade strapped to his back now had been a gift from the ranger.

"_Boo says that you have need of a blade to match your skill," Minsc had announced, beaming as he presented the sheathed blade to Talon. "The butts of evil cannot be properly kicked with a blade that breaks!"_

Talon did not know whether the hamster had truly helped Minsc select the sword from a smith in Baldur's Gate, but it was a magnificent weapon, simple in appearance, but masterfully crafted: perfectly balanced, razor sharp and enchanted to protect it from the iron rot that plagued the Sword Coast. Reaching a hand over his shoulder as he walked, he touched the hilt of the sword, wrapped in a soft leather that drew sweat away from his hands, as though it were a talisman, the ranger's booming laugh echoing in his memory.

Dynaheir had possessed the regal dignity of a queen, even standing at the bottom of the bone-strewn oubliette where the gnolls had imprisoned her. She had watched the enthusiastic antics of her massive protector with the fond indulgence and occasional impatience of a mother, and this attitude had quickly extended to the two youngsters from Candlekeep. She had taught him to dance, guiding him through the steps of a stately promenade to the accompaniment of Khalid's reed flute and Imoen's giggles, and had begun instructing the girl in the arts of magic after they had killed Sarevok.

He would never have defeated Sarevok Anchev without the aid of Imoen and the others, would likely have never survived the revelation that he was a Bhaalspawn, the brother of the man who had killed Gorion and come perilously close to bringing the whole of the Sword Coast under his domination, had it not been for their support and friendship. They had become his family, all that he had after Gorion's death, and that they could have come so far, done so much together, only to be captured and killed by a total stranger, one whose motives were as unclear as his origins…

_I didn't even get the chance to try to save them,_ he thought miserably, for at least the thousandth time since he and Imoen had stood over the first body. That he had lain in his cage, consumed with his own pain, giving no thought at all to the fate of the comrades who were being tortured and killed, was a knowledge that gnawed at him relentlessly. Only the awareness that Imoen was alive and in danger kept him from simply curling up and waiting to die.

The narrow path of the bridge was overshadowed on both sides by buildings that were built not only up, but out, overhanging the river below to a degree that in some cases seemed outright perilous, and crushed together with only the narrowest of alleyways between.. They passed by vendors advertising their wares in loud voices: produce, meat, trinkets and baubles of every imaginable kind. Despite the fact that it was midmorning, a few whores lingered on the street, offering their own wares; Talon came in for more than his share of such propositions; tall and broad shouldered, with hazel eyes, a comely face and thick, dark brown hair that had grown out from his preferred close crop during his captivity, he was no stranger to female attention, but some of the offers were couched in terms direct enough to make him blush, which of course only served to amuse them and incite even more explicit comments.

Yoshimo glanced back at him in amusement. "Do we need to stop for a few minutes to let you get to know your admirers?"

"No!" Talon's emphatic refusal was accompanied by a shake of his head. In his mind, he could see Jaheira's scowl of disapproval, Dynaheir's expression of dignified disdain, hear Imoen's teasing laugh. These were the things that had kept him from indulging his curiosity about such women in the past, and the memory of them now was an even stronger restraint.

"You are sure?" the smile on the Kara-turan's face faded at Talon's look of bleak determination.

"I'm sure," Talon replied curtly. "Keep going."

They continued on in silence as the road widened at the end of the bridge. As they reached the wall and the arched tunnel that marked the end of the district, Yoshimo spoke at last. "I am sorry, Talon. I spoke without thinking of your loss. Were you…involved with one of them?"

Talon blinked at Yoshimo's delicate phrasing, then shook his head again. "No, it was nothing like that. It's just…" he hesitated, searching for the words to explain. "They were like my family. I don't want to do anything that would disappoint them."

Sorrow flashed briefly across Yoshimo's face and was gone as he nodded. "The desire to honor the fallen is both understandable and admirable, my friend," he said, giving the younger man's shoulder a friendly squeeze, "and I promise you that Imoen will not join them."

There was no way that the thief could make such a guarantee with surety, but the sincerity of his words, the resolution in his voice, comforted Talon nonetheless. He gave the Kara-turan a grateful nod as they passed through the gates of the Government District.

The buildings here were set farther apart: grand structures with neatly landscaped lawns, all surrounding a spacious park with fountains, trees and flowers. Though there were noticeably fewer people, and no evidence of crime, the guards were more numerous, their uniforms and armor in better condition and their attitude more overbearing than the handful of soldiers that Talon had seen in their trek across the Bridge District. One of them eyed the newcomers with open suspicion; Talon returned the look with a level one of his own. Part of him itched for someone – anyone – to take out his pain and frustration on, but he knew that a brawl with the local militia would only hinder their efforts to find Imoen.

"The Council Building," Yoshimo murmured, nodding toward a massive, marble-faced edifice. As they approached, a man clad in wizard's robes reached out a hand, touching Talon lightly on the elbow.

"A moment, if you please," the wizard said, politely but with an unmistakable air of superiority. "You are Talon, son of Gorion, hero of the Sword Coast, are you not?"

Talon eyed him warily. "Yes to the first two," he said, "but the last is open to interpretation."

"No need for modesty," the wizard chuckled. "You are well known to me, or rather, your deeds are well known to those I serve. I am Madeen. I represent one of the masters of the Athkatla order of the Cowled Wizards. He seeks to employ you in a matter of some urgency."

Talon exchanged a glance with Yoshimo, then turned his eyes back to Madeen. "Your order has imprisoned a companion of mine; I came here to speak with them about her release."

Madeen shrugged, his expression plainly declaring such matters beneath his notice. "I do not know anything about that. I represent one of the wizards, as I said, a Master Tolgerias. Perhaps you could speak to him of this companion?"

"It looks as though I'll need to," Talon sighed. If this lackey was so arrogant, it did not bode well for the master. "Where do I find this Tolgerias?"

Madeen frowned. "_Master_ Tolgerias," he replied, stressing the title, "may be found within the Council Building. You may go within, and do not tarry overlong. Master Tolgerias does not like to be kept waiting."

"The gods forbid," Talon muttered under his breath as they moved on, but he knew he could ill afford to antagonize the order by insulting their members.

"Patience, my friend," Yoshimo counseled him as they arrived at the heavy bronze doors. "Console yourself with the knowledge that such sycophants rarely achieve the status that they crave and are doomed to eternal dissatisfaction."

"It'd still be more satisfying for _me_ to tie his beard in a knot," Talon grumbled, though the thief had a good point.

The interior of the Council Building was crowded: armored soldiers, neatly dressed bureaucrats and richly robed wizards, along with a mixture of citizenry seeking audiences with one official or another. A few brief questions directed Talon and Yoshimo to a tall, thin man with neatly trimmed, iron grey hair and beard and pale blue eyes, wearing an elaborately embroidered robe with a deep hood folded neatly over his shoulders and trailing down his back.

"Ah, yes, I see Madeen has proven to be his faithful self, as usual," Tolgerias said, his tone that of one speaking of a favorite hound, "though I rather suspect that you would have located me even without his summons." His eyes watched Talon shrewdly, gauging the reaction to his words.

"Then you already know that your order has my companion, Imoen," Talon replied, keeping his expression controlled. "Where is she?"

"The girl taken along with the wizard?" Tolgerias asked. "They have both been detained in Spellhold, an asylum that the order uses to protect society from the magically deviant."

Talon felt his control slip a notch. "Imoen is no deviant!" he said heatedly, aware of Yoshimo's eyes on him, urging caution.

"She was observed in the unauthorized use of magic, a serious crime here in Athkatla," the wizard informed him. "She was defending herself against the bastard who kidnapped and tortured us, killed our friends!" he exclaimed, his voice beginning to rise in spite of himself.

"They knew nothing of the laws here, my lord," Yoshimo put in placatingly, laying a restraining hand on Talon's shoulder. "They were brought here without their consent or knowledge; surely that would be cause for leniency?"

"Ignorance of the law is no defense," Tolgerias intoned pompously. "It may, however, be considered as a mitigating factor in the matter of sentencing. You have my word that I will make inquiries into the issue. In the meantime," he continued, "if you were to attend to the problem that Madeen referred to, I would be able to argue more effectively that you – and by extension your companion – are indeed law-abiding citizens."

His meaning was not lost on Talon. "I still don't know what that problem is," he said tersely, hating the feeling of coercion, but knowing that the wizard had the advantage in this bargaining.

"It is a matter which must be handled with discretion and expediency," Tolgerias warned him. "There is something that has been plaguing us for more than a week, now, and has become quite alarming. You know of the prevailing attitude against magic here in Amn, yes? Well, amongst some it is even worse than that…a burning, palpable hatred. One particular man here in Athkatla has murdered two of our number in cold blood. He is currently in hiding, and we need you to track the fellow down. We have been unable to do so, much to our frustration. Cowled Wizards cannot be assaulted without repercussions or it will lead to…serious problems."

_Meaning that you will no longer be able to snatch the innocent from the street with impunity_. The thought came to him in Jaheira's bitingly sarcastic voice, so real that he nearly turned to see where she was. Concealing the sudden wash of pain at the realization that it was simply his memory giving her voice to his thoughts, he asked, "Who is this murderer, and how are we expected to track him down when your order has failed? Why not use the city guard?"

"The order prefers to handle its affairs internally," Tolgerias replied smoothly, but the guarded manner in which his eyes slid over the armored men nearby made it clear that there were tensions between the military and magical branches of the Athkatlan bureaucracy. "His name is Valygar Corthala, last son of a wealthy family and a true brute. He is prepared to defend himself against mages; it is our hope that he will not be expecting a more mundane attack. Ask around and you may discover if he is hiding within the city or someplace else. We know that he has a home in the Docks district, but he has not been seen there in several days. His friends and servants will not speak to us, but they may to you."

"And if we find him?" Talon asked, opting not to point out the obvious inconsistency between the stated desire of the order to handle problems internally and their hiring of outsiders. If Tolgerias thought him a fool, he was willing to indulge the misperception. Khalid had never objected when strangers mistook his stutter as a sign of cowardice; those who marked him as an easy target quickly learned their error, and the warrior had possessed honor enough that the majority of them had survived the experience.

"We do not ask that you commit any murder," the mage assured him. "We wish Valygar be delivered to us, that is all. He will likely resist, so if you must kill him so be it. But if you do kill him, I simply must have his body. Valygar must be delivered to us whether he is dead or alive, you understand, yes?"

"I understand," Talon answered blandly. He understood that there was more to this than bringing a murderer to justice. "And if I make the attempt and do not locate him?"

"Your honest efforts will be taken into account," Tolgerias said, "but, of course, a successful outcome would make it easier for me to argue your case with the rest of the order. In addition, there would be a reward of gold and a few choice magical items upon delivery."

Talon nodded, accepting the blackmail for what it was. "I will make every effort to locate him."

Tolgerias looked pleased. "I have great confidence in you," he said. "Your exploits along the Sword Coast were most noteworthy."

"And probably highly exaggerated by the time word of them reached here," Talon shrugged. The last version that he had heard of the battle with Sarevok had him alone, wielding a blazing sword and casting lightning bolts with his free hand.

"I pride myself on being able to separate myth from substance," Tolgerias replied. "I have no doubt that you are more than up to the task."

As they left the building, Talon muttered, "Why do I have a strong urge for a bath?"

Yoshimo chuckled. "The lowest ranking of government officials make the worst of thieves seem pristine by comparison, and it only worsens as you go up," he said. After a pause, he continued. "We will in all likelihood need allies to better our chances of capturing this man without killing him. Mercenaries may frequently be found in the less expensive taverns and inns, seeking employment. "

Talon hesitated. Part of him rebelled at the notion of replacing his trusted friends with hired blades, but anything that improved his chances of getting Imoen back could not be ignored. "All right," he agreed. "Where should we start?"

"The Copper Coronet in the slums is well known," Yoshimo replied. "There is an arena in the common room where warriors display their skills in fights to first blood."

"Guess we start there, then," Talon decided. "Lead on."


	3. Chapter 3

"Coo! You be the one I'm lookin' for, if I not be mistaken. Talon'd be your name, right?"

Talon glanced at the slightly built young man who had approached them soon after they entered the slums, but kept walking. "Sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "Not me."

The youth simply regarded him with a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. "That so? Well then, I guess you'd not be interested in any information on the girl taken by the Cowled Wizards in the Promenade earlier this week, then. Good day to you!" He turned to walk away, but Talon grabbed the back of his collar, pulling him back roughly and shoving him against a lichen-encrusted stone wall.

"Start talking," he said flatly. "I'm in no mood for games."

"T'was not me that started the games, if your name be Talon," the other replied with a shrug, clearly unintimidated by the warrior's demeanor.

Talon drew a deep breath and let it out as he stepped back; from the corner of his eye, he saw Yoshimo scanning the street around them. "I'm Talon," he admitted. "Now, tell me what you know of Imoen."

"Imoen…aye, that be her name," the lad said, pushing away from the wall and eyeing them with cheeky confidence. " Tis right glad I am to know that I've not wasted me time chasin' down a complete stranger. And speakin' of strangers, bless me for an idiot if I haven't gone and forgotten me manners! Me name's Gaelan Bayle, and ye needn't be stretchin' your brain thinkin'; I be sure it's a name ye haven't heard."

"Talon may not have," Yoshimo spoke, evidently having satisfied himself that there was no ambush forthcoming, "but the name is known to me." He glanced at Talon. "He serves as a messenger and courier between the … less legitimate businessmen of Athkatla. As such, his word is his bond; if his reputation for dependability were lost, his usefulness…and his life…would quickly follow suit."

"There, now!" Gaelan beamed. "Your friend has cut straight to the heart of the matter. I knows very little of this Imoen meself, me lord, but I can link ye up with a group that knows…or can be findin' out." He glanced around cautiously. "This not be the best place to have such a talk, though. I be havin' a place not far from here that'll guard against pryin' eyes and ears. Follow me." Ducking around Talon, he set off without looking back to see if they were behind him.

"Cocky little bastard," Talon muttered as he turned to follow.

"He has good reason to be," Yoshimo replied. "His services are indispensable to his employers, and they are some of the most ruthless and powerful men and women in Athkatla. Anyone causing him harm would meet swift death."

Talon glanced at the Kara-Turan, finally understanding the full reason behind his earlier vigilance. "How close did I come to getting us killed?" he asked ruefully.

"Not very," Yoshimo admitted. "A certain amount of violence is expected in such a line of work. Had you drawn steel on him, however, events might have unfolded differently."

Talon shook his head. "I don't use the sword unless I'm prepared to kill." It had been one of his first lessons learned from the Candlekeep guards.

"I thought as much, from what I knew of you," Yoshimo replied, "but the pain of your losses is still fresh, and such things can make one choose paths that they would otherwise shun."

"Is that the voice of experience talking?" Talon asked him.

The thief shrugged. "Experience is merely the accumulation of mistakes," he said with a wry smile. "The wise man learns not only from his own errors, but from those of others, as well."

Ahead of them, Bayle ducked through the door of a ramshackle house; the two companions followed suit.

"You live here?" Talon asked, looking around the room which, though sparsely furnished, was in better condition than the exterior would suggest.

"Nay," Gaelen replied, his expression saying plainly that only a fool would conduct his type of business anywhere near the place where he slept. "I just uses it as an office, of sorts, when I finds meself in need of privacy."

"You've got your privacy," Talon told him. "Now what is this about?"

"Straight to the point," Gaelen noted approvingly. "A man after me own heart, and I'll be returnin' the courtesy. I tell ye straight that I know a powerful group that can be helping ye. They can be findin' where the wizard and the young woman was taken, they can."

He looked immensely pleased with himself, but Talon was unimpressed. "We already know where they are," he said. "According to the Cowled Wizards, they were both taken to a place called Spellhold."

Bayle snorted. "And did they tell ye where it'd be at? Because ye'd be the first they shared such information with. None but members of their order know the location, and not all of them are privy."

"But your associates can find this out?" Talon made no attempt to hide his skepticism.

"If they can't, there's none who can," Gaelan replied confidently. "Of course, it will require that they cross the Cowled Wizards; not something that ye'd likely be able to do on yer own."

The warrior decided not to mention his agreement with Tolgerias. "And this group that you speak of would be willing to do this from the goodness of their hearts, I'm certain."

The youth chuckled. "Quite the sense o' humor you've got there," he said with a wink. "Nay, those that have hearts at all don't have much goodness in them, but they do have an eye for a deal. They'll find Spellhold and get ye there, guaranteed, for 20,000 gold."

Talon felt his jaw drop. He didn't need to consult with Yoshimo to know that their current funds totaled significantly less than one-tenth of that sum. "That's outrageous!"

"That be the price for goin' against the Cowled ones," Gaelan replied, "and it's a firm offer. I've been told it's that or not at all. You might…just _might_ be able to find Spellhold on yer own, but no way in all Nine Hells would ye reach it without help. My associates offer you a guarantee: if they don't deliver, you'll get half your gold back."

"Half?" Talon demanded incredulously.

Gaelen shrugged. "E'en if they don't find it, there be no small risk in lookin' for such a place. They're entitled to some compensation for that risk."

"You've yet to tell us who your associates are," Talon observed coldly.

"No, I've not," Bayle replied, glancing at Yoshimo, "but since yer friend here already seems to know, I see no harm in telling you that it's the Shadowmaster himself: Aran Linvail, the head of the Shadow Thieves, who authorized the offer. It's not often that he involves himself directly in such matters; ye must've caught his interest."

"Quite a feat, considering that I didn't even realize I was in Athkatla until a few days ago, and I've been cooped up in an inn for most of that time," Talon murmured, realizing that his reputation was going to follow him whether he liked it or not, even though it had not been he alone who had earned that reputation.

"The Shadowmaster don't explain his reasons to the likes of me," Gaelan replied modestly. "He simply gave me the terms to offer ye; it's entirely up to ye whether to accept or no, but I can promise ye it's yer best chance to get the lass back."

Talon glanced at Yoshimo, his expression questioning. The thief responded with a barely perceptible nod. It couldn't hurt to at least start gathering the money; if the Cowled Wizards followed through on their implied promise, it could be put to other use, but Tolgerias had not been one to inspire trust. A backup plan seemed prudent.

"Where do I go when I have the gold?" he asked.

"Coo! Ye just comes right back here, and I'll tell ye what to be doin' next," Gaelan replied with a jocular smile. "For now, I've got me nephew, Brus, outside, waitin' to show ye to the Copper Coronet; there always be payin' work to be found there."

"We already know where the Coronet is," Yoshimo said as they left, much to the obvious disappointment of the scruffy urchin standing beside the door.

The slums were a far cry from Waukeen's Promenade and the Government District. Instead of neatly swept cobblestones, they strode on a layer of mixed filth at least an inch deep, the stench that wafted up from it suggesting a number of unsavory components. The structures here made the buildings on the bridge seem well constructed by comparison, with shutters hanging askew and holes visible in many of the rooftops. The people, clothed in rough homespun, eyed them apathetically as they passed: just another pair of adventurers who would be on their way soon enough.

The Copper Coronet was a surprisingly large establishment; its front covered most of a block. Yoshimo bypassed the first door as a dwarf staggered out, plainly drunk despite the fact that it was barely midday, and leaned against the wall beside the door. A moment later, a stream of urine began splashing against the wall, running down to add itself to the muck that coated the street. Talon turned away in disgust and followed Yoshimo.

"We are _not_ staying here," he growled.

"I was not going to recommend it," the thief replied calmly, stopping before another door and opening it, "but Bayle was correct in saying that it is the best place to find paying work, as well as hired swords."

Glancing back at the dwarf, Talon wondered if he was a typical patron; if so, he thought it highly unlikely that they would find anyone suitable within. Besides, the need to pay mercenaries would mean that it would take longer to raise the payment that the Shadow Thieves required…but without help, it was unlikely that they would be able to earn such a sum. Clenching his teeth in frustration, Talon stepped inside the tavern behind Yoshimo, hoping that Corlatha could be found quickly and would prove to be as great a villain as Tolgerias had claimed…and that the Cowled Wizard would follow through on his promise to press for Imoen's release.

_Might as well hope for 20,000 gold to fall from the sky_, he told himself. His instincts told him that if he succeeded in the task that Tolgerias had set before him, they would find other uses for him, dangling the hope of Imoen's release before him like a carrot. His fists clenched as he glanced to his right to see the arena that Yoshimo had spoken of. Inside, two men were engaging in a bare-fisted brawl to the shouted encouragement of the crowd of onlookers outside the ring.

Perhaps he should take a turn, he thought as he watched one of the pair finally drop to the ground, resulting in a mixture of cheers and booing from the spectators as money began to change hands. Fisticuffs were harmless enough, and might help him work off some of the frustration that was building.

"Salvanas, enough!" the exasperated tone in the woman's voice brought his attention around to the bar, where a foppishly dressed man was attempting to embrace one of the barmaids.

"My darling, 'enough' is a word that could never apply to my adoration for you!" the fop proclaimed extravagantly.

"You adore anything in a skirt," the lass retorted, sliding away from his roaming hands. "I'd sooner bed a gnoll!"

"You speak so only because you have not known the bliss of my touch!" Salvanas protested, attempting to draw her into a kiss. "If you would surrender to the desire that I see burning in your eyes –"

"The lady said that she is not interested," Talon growled, stepping up to the pair and shoving the man away. He staggered back against the bar, then eyed Talon with disdain.

"Another brute who thinks with his fists," he sneered. "If you had brains instead of brawn, you would know that women are flighty creatures, denying their true desires for the sake of propriety. A night spent in my bed will change her tune!"

"And another move in her direction will change yours," Talon replied, unsheathing the dagger at his hip and pointing it meaningfully in the direction of the letch's groin. Salvanas' eyes widened, and he moved away quickly, muttering disgruntled complaints about barbarians.

"That wasn't really necessary," the girl told him, though she was smiling as she spoke. "Salvanas is a pest, but he couldn't fight his way out of an empty room. I can handle him myself."

"You shouldn't have to," Talon shrugged. "No lady should."

Her smile grew noticeably warmer at that, and she stepped closer to him. "He's not much of a threat on any level," she said with a conspiratorial wink. "The girls upstairs call him Sixty-second Sal," she added in a much louder voice. Across the room, Salvanas flushed deep red and made a beeline for the door, chased by a chorus of catcalls. "That'll keep him away for a few days," she said with satisfaction before turning her attention back to Talon, a speculative look in her blue eyes. "You've rescued the maiden," she purred, moving still closer, until her ample breasts brushed his chest. "What do you plan to do now, my brave knight?"

"I am betrothed, my lady," he said, surprised – and a bit ashamed – at how easily the lie came to his lips, how convincing it sounded.

"A pity," the girl pouted, "but you know, she'd never know that anything happened."

"I would know," he said, raising her hand to his lips for a light kiss, "and you both deserve better." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and made his way to the table where Yoshimo had seated himself and was watching with twinkling eyes.

"You manipulate the truth quite skillfully," he remarked in a low voice. It was intended as a compliment, but Talon winced.

"I didn't figure that she needed to hear my life story, and I didn't want to just turn her down flat, but I've never felt less romantically inclined in my life," he said with a shrug, pushing away the guilt. The lie had served its purpose and had hurt no one. Khalid and Jaheira had told stories of subterfuges they had participated in while on Harper business; sometimes, such things were necessary.

"Understandably so," Yoshimo said sympathetically, "but if you make a habit of coming to the aid of damsels in distress, you will undoubtedly have to deal with their interest in you. Ladies have a weakness for dashing, heroic young men."

"I'll have to deal with it, then," Talon replied with a shrug. Gorion had not raised him to turn a blind eye to someone in trouble, and his fallen companions had only reinforced that tendency.

"Ah, good to see you again, my lord Yoshimo!"

Talon turned to see the speaker and felt an immediate wave of distrust. The man was of medium height, with a thin but wiry build. His face was narrow and sallow-skinned, with a sharp blade of a nose, thin lips and dark eyes that shifted between the two of them, coldly evaluating even as he continued in what was meant to be a jocular manner, "I'm sure that Alora will be delighted to see you again, and I'm certain that Madam Nin can find a suitable companion for your young friend." His gaze lingered speculatively on Talon, looking him over like a horse he was thinking of purchasing…or stealing. "Yes, I can think of any number of Nin's girls who would be delighted to entertain you."

"I don't believe that Talon's betrothed would approve of such entertainment," Yoshimo replied smoothly before Talon could respond.

"Ah, the joy of young love," the man said with a knowing smirk. "I'll have to wait a few years until the lovebirds can't stand the sight of each other, but the time will come, and Nin will be here. In the meantime, there are other entertainments to be had; simply tell the guards by the doors in back that Lehtinan has given you permission to enter."

"Friend of yours?" Talon asked, watching the man walk away, feeling soiled simply from having been in close proximity to him.

"Hardly," Yoshimo replied, his expression giving no hint of his true feelings, "Lehtinan owns the Coronet, and can be a valuable source of information, but only a fool would trust him."

"And Alora?"

Yoshimo shrugged, looking mildly embarrassed. "She has agreed to pass on any rumors that she picks up during her … work, although in all honesty, I have availed myself of her professional services, as well. A charming girl."

Talon nodded, trying not to look disapproving. After all the Kara-Turan had done for him, he wasn't going to begrudge him his entertainments, particularly if he could pick up any useful information in the process. "If you want to go up and see her, go ahead. I'll wait here."

"Aye," Yoshimo agreed. "I should be back in half an hour; it would draw attention if I did not spend some time with her after we talked. Don't drink anything that Lehtinan might bring you."

Talon frowned at the warning. "Why not?"

"I did not care for the way he was looking at you," the thief replied. "He is rumored to traffic in slaves."

"What?" Talon twisted in his chair, trying to catch sight of the tavern owner.

"Be still!" Yoshimo hissed. "Do nothing to draw his attention further!"

Talon settled back into his chair, his palms itching for the hilt of his sword. "A slaver?" he demanded in a low voice. "We can't –"

"I have heard gossip, nothing more," Yoshimo answered. "Do not lose sight of your goal; you cannot rescue Imoen if you get yourself killed chasing rumors. I will be back shortly; we will look together for gainful employment and possible allies and then leave this place, yes?"

"With pleasure," Talon answered. After Yoshimo had gone, he sat with his eyes fixed on the table, fighting with his conscience. Had he been with the others, they would not have hesitated to investigate such a rumor, but now there was Imoen to consider…

A shadow fell across the table; Talon looked up, expecting to see Lehtinan with a drink in hand, but instead found himself facing a well dressed nobleman with dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, moss-green eyes and a confident expression on his handsome face.

"The hero of Baldur's Gate," the man said with evident satisfaction. "I thought that it was you."

Wearily, Talon wondered if there was anyone in the damn city who _didn't_ know who he was. "Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"I'm counting on it," the man said, dropping into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. "I am Lord Jierdan Firkraag. I have heard of your exploits, and you are just the type of creature I am looking for: capable and headstrong, with the ability to handle what e'er is thrown at you."

_Creature?_ Talon wondered at the word, but let it pass. "What is it you wish of me?"

"I am Lord of a community outside Athkatla," Firkraag replied, "and while I provide for my people as best that I can, there are some things I cannot do. Battle is not my strong point. There are marauders, horrid ogres and trolls that must be destroyed with fire, lest they regenerate. I need a firm hand to push them back. I need _you_, Talon. I offer a grand sum, worthy of a warrior of your stature. I offer 10,000 gold if you can free my land of this scourge. It is a fortune, you will agree."

Talon blinked. Half the sum needed by the Shadow Thieves in a single task? "It is, indeed, but why so much? And why me? You could have anyone for such a price." Killing ogres and trolls was no easy task, but an experienced company would have little trouble. Of course, an experienced company was precisely what he _didn't_ have right now. "I'm only traveling with one other right now," he admitted with a twinge of sorrow. "I don't know how quickly I would be able to see to the task."

If Firkraag noticed his pain, he gave no sign. "I am certain that you will come as quickly as you are able," he answered. "I will settle for none but the best to ensure the safety of my people, and that means you." He slid a parchment map across the table. "My lands lie in the Windspear Hills, to the east," he said, his finger tracing a path from Athkatla to the destination. "I shall return and inform the populace that their deliverance is at hand. If all goes well, all involved will receive exactly what is deserved."

He was gone before Talon was able to formally accept – or refuse – his offer. The warrior sat for several moments, elation warring with caution…and irritation. The nobleman had obviously assumed that he would leap at the sum like a starving dog at a meaty bone. The fact that he had been more or less correct in that assessment did nothing to abate the irritation. Talon glanced toward the stairway that Yoshimo had ascended, but it would still be some time before the thief returned.

His eyes strayed toward the closed door in the rear of the common room; a few minutes' observation had him frowning in suspicion. A number of individuals, most of them obviously nobles, entered the Coronet, went straight to the door and were admitted after a few words with the guard on duty. Looking in the direction of the bar, he found Lehtinan watching him again, and decided not to wait for the tavern owner to approach him with a drink that might or might not be drugged.

Getting to his feet, he approached the guard. "Lehtinan said that I could come in," he said. The guard glanced toward the bar and evidently received a nod from his employer. Stepping aside, he opened the door and allowed the warrior to pass through.

OOO

"Yoshi!" Alora squealed with delight as he stepped through the door and bounded from the bed, her generous assets barely concealed by the gown that she wore. She started for him with outstretched arms, but after two steps, she stopped, her arms dropping limply to her sides, her dancing blue eyes going flat, and her pretty face taking on a remote expression.

"He is here?" the voice that emerged from her lips was her own, but cold and emotionless, the inflection completely different from her normal tone.

"He is," Yoshimo replied simply.

"Good." A cold smile curled her full lips. "Make certain that he is given ample opportunity to sample the entertainments. They will appeal to the darkness in his blood."

"He keeps it well hidden," he replied, unable to conceal his doubt. "You are certain that he is truly the one? I have seen nothing from him to indicate that he is capable of –"

"Of cold blooded murder?" Her expression shifted to disgust. "He has admitted to you that he is a Bhaalspawn, has he not? Death follows him as closely as his own shadow. He has told you of killing Sarevok?"

"He has," Yoshimo admitted, "but he has said nothing of Tamoko."

"That is because she was nothing to him," she sneered. "Simply an obstacle on the way to his goal. I assure you, my dear Kara-Turan, that this _is_ the man who murdered your sister. He is a menace that must be contained."

"You are in a poor position to do that now," Yoshimo observed. "Perhaps I should kill him outright."

"You would not survive the attempt. I alone have the ability to strip him of his power, and these foolish magelings have unwittingly provided me with tools far better than I possessed before. See to it that he comes to Spellhold," she continued. "When the time comes, I will be more than ready for him, but for now, I must go, before my captors," her lips sneered contemptuously on the last word, "discover that I am not so securely confined as they believe."

Alora swayed slightly, life coming back into her face. She looked up at Yoshimo and her smile returned. "What are you still doing over there?" she pouted.

"Simply admiring your beauty," he replied, stepping forward to run his fingers through her blonde curls, hoping to forget his growing misgivings in the pleasure of her embrace.

OOO

"Welcome to the pit, my dear fellow!"

Talon glanced at the stout man in puzzlement, then down to the three arena cages on the sand-covered floor. "You have fights back here, too?"

"The fights out front are for the common rabble," the man replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "For the true connoisseur, we offer the very best in live entertainment! Actual combat to the death between man and man, or man and beast, presented for your viewing pleasure! Witness as the Coronet's own gladiators fight for their lives in the pit! Feel free to join the nobles in the viewing balcony above, my Lord."

Talon glanced up to the area where several dozen men and women watched the floor of the arena with obvious anticipation. "Gladiators? There are people willing to risk their lives in this pit of yours?"

The man chuckled. "Willing or unwilling, it makes little difference. The gladiators fight to amuse our clientele…. I'm sure you'll agree they put on an excellent show!"

"I'm sure," Talon agreed, carefully schooling his expression. "And when is the next match?"

"The next should be underway in moments…dwarf against troll, I believe."

Talon nodded and continued upward to the balcony, listening with growing disgust as bets were discussed with obvious enthusiasm.

"The dwarf bested a gnoll last week; I'll put a hundred gold on…"

"A gnoll's not a troll. At three to one odds, I'll sit this one out…"

"I hope it's not over as quickly as the last fight. It's so much more exciting when the battle is drawn out…"

A troll was led from one side of the arena. Its handler placed it in one of the cages, removed the collar around its neck and hastily stepped out. The troll shook its head, appearing dazed; evidently, the collar had some sort of restraining effect. Within moments, however, it was fully alert, leaping at the cage bars with a snarl, causing the women to recoil with delighted shrieks.

From another door, a dwarf in leather armor stepped forward, the point of a sword at his back. Even at that distance, Talon could clearly see the scars that crisscrossed his body and face. He strode across the sand, his head high; at the door to the cage, he lifted his eyes, raking the spectators with a look of scathing contempt before accepting the axe that was offered him and stepping into the cage. The troll, who had been kept distracted on the other side of the cage by a guard, suddenly became aware of the newcomer and charged as the door slammed shut.

Talon felt sick. Even if he could reach the cage before the fight reached its inevitable conclusion, to do so would result in fighting every guard in the tavern. _You can't help Imoen if you're dead,_ he told himself as the dwarf threw himself at the troll in grim desperation. He wielded the weapon with skill, but he lacked either fire or acid to prevent regeneration. Swing by swing, dodge by dodge, he grew visibly wearier, until at last he stumbled, falling to his knees. Talon turned away as the troll pounced, the roar of the crowd drowning out the dying screams of the slave.

He made his way down the stairs, disgust shifting to determination. A set of stairs seemed to lead to the area where Yoshimo had gone, but there was another hallway. As he moved down it, a sickly sweet smelling smoke could be seen curling from beneath the closed doors that he passed, and giddy laughter could be heard behind them. He left the smell behind as the hallway stretched on toward a single door at the end. He reached it and, with no great surprise, found it locked. Leaning forward, he put an ear to the door.

"Sounds like Kraylor bought it," someone inside said with an unpleasant laugh. "You're up next, Hendak."

Talon didn't wait to hear a reply. Stepping back, he took a deep breath and smashed his foot into the door, close to the frame. The lock shattered, and the door swung inward. Talon stepped forward, pulling his sword from its sheath, and found himself at the top of a short flight of stairs. Below, a series of barred cells lined the opposite wall, each one filled with ragged, wide-eyed prisoners.

"Hey! Who in th' Nine Hells are –" Talon didn't give the guard at the foot of the stairs a chance to finish speaking; he was still reaching for his sword when the warrior's blade nearly severed his head from his shoulders. The body dropped to the floor in a gout of blood, and Talon vaulted over the railing to confront the second guard, a mage who was frantically trying to cast a spell when the greatsword opened his belly like an overripe melon. The prisoners in the cages cheered, but a voice quickly spoke up.

"Quiet, all of you, unless you want the rest of the guards in here!" The cheers ceased immediately.

"Thanks," Talon said, his wary gaze going from the doors to the cell from which the voice had come. A tall, muscular man with a thick mane of tawny hair stood at the front of the cell, wearing nothing but a pair of ragged trousers; scars in various stages of healing covered his chest and arms, but he stood as proudly as the dwarf had, his pale blue eyes fixed on Talon.

"You are no ally to our captors," the man said in a thick, guttural accent. "May I know your name?"

"I am Talon," he replied, bending to search the two bodies with no success. "Do you know where the key to your cells is kept?"

A fierce hope kindled in the man's eyes. "A guard will return here shortly, to take the next fighter to the arena; he will carry the key. I am Hendak," he continued, "a proud warrior from the North until my capture by slavers. I and the others have been made to fight like animals to enrich Lehtinan and amuse the nobles of this city! I beg of you, please free us! I have never begged before, and yet I do it now so I might wreak vengeance on Lehtinan and end his sick and twisted enterprise!"

"I'll free you," Talon grunted as he hurriedly dragged the bodies to the other side of the stairs, away from the door to the arena. "You don't have to beg." He sprinted back to the door just as a key began to rattle in the lock and hid behind it as it swung inward. A guard stepped through, stopping abruptly as his eyes went from the bloodstains on the floor and wall to the open door at the top of the stairs.

Before he could cry out, Talon slammed the door behind him, burying his blade halfway to the hilt in the man's back. Pulling the sword free, he snatched the keys from the dead man's hand and began unlocking doors hurriedly.

"We are free, my brothers!" Hendak called out as the freed slaves raided the weapon racks on the other side of the room. "Go, now, and free the women! Hendak will strike his blade into the heart of our so-called owner, so that he shall never trouble you again! Go and savor your freedom!" Selecting a massive battle axe, he turned to Talon with a savage joy burning in his eyes. "Thank you truly, my friend, for what you have done," he said fervently. "Now to the task of killing that fiend, Lehtinan. Assist me if you wish. Otherwise, stand and watch the vengeance of Hendak be fulfilled!"

Leaping up the stairs, the gladiator ran down the hallway; screams could be heard from the tavern's patrons as the slaves swarmed among them.

_Yoshimo. Hells!_ Sword in hand, Talon sprinted along the hall toward the stairway he had seen earlier, hoping the Kara-Turan would not encounter an indiscriminate and vengeful slave. He burst through the door at the top of the stairs just as Yoshimo emerged from a room, hurriedly buttoning his trousers.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Slave revolt," Talon replied innocently. The thief gave him a pointed look.

"I thought I told you to stay put."

"You told me not to drink anything Lehtinan gave me," Talon corrected him with a grin, "which I didn't. You'd have done the same thing."

"Don't be so sure of that," Yoshimo growled, accepting his belt and sword from a buxom blonde clad in a bedsheet. "I did not reach my current age by putting my life on the line needlessly."

"Be careful, Yoshi!" the woman called after them as they headed for the common room.

Talon glanced sideways at the Kara-Turan. "Yoshi?"

"Don't even think about it," Yoshimo warned him.

The freed slaves, hardened by combat, were proving more than a match for the tavern's guards. Talon and Yoshimo entered the common room just as Hendak reached Lehtinan.

"Hendak?" the slavemaster snarled. "You ignorant, barbaric slave! You're behind all of this chaos, aren't you? I'll take it out of your hide!"

"Enough, fiend!" Hendak spat, hefting the bloody axe in both hands. "You no longer own me, and I'll ensure that you no longer claim ownership over any other, as well! I have survived your hellish fighting pit for years; you are no match for me!"

Lehtinan was far from unskilled with the saber he wielded, but ultimately, Hendak's words proved correct. The slaver overreached, stumbling forward; with a savage cry, Hendak brought the axe down in a devastating swing that nearly cut his opponent in half.

"It is finally over, Lehtinan," he said, wrenching the axe from the ruined body. "All the years of cruel and evil acts that you have committed for nothing more than coins in your pocket. Burn in the abyss, fiend." He spat on the corpse, then turned and dropped to one knee before Talon.

"The debt I owe you is one that I can never repay," he said in a choked voice. "I offer you my service in thanks for the lives that you have returned to us this day."

Talon glanced questioningly at Yoshimo, who shrugged, then nodded. There was no doubt that the barbarian was a formidable fighter. "We'd be glad to have you with us, Hendak, but there is no debt to repay. I couldn't have lived with myself if I had left you as you were."

"You are the first in five years to feel such compassion," Hendak replied as he stood, "but there is one thing yet undone. More slavers remain at large within Athkatla; they have made their nest in a dry-docked boat east of here, and they have many children that they retain as slaves. I would ask that you help us to rid the city of this infestation once and for all."

"I remember that boat," Talon murmured. He had seen it as they had left Gaelan Bayle's 'office', and had wondered about its presence so far from any water. He gave Yoshimo a sideways glance. "Feel like a bit of excitement?"

"It's not exactly the kind of excitement I was planning on today," Yoshimo replied wryly, looking around at the eagerly waiting slaves, "but why not?"

Hendak laughed. "Why not, indeed! Come, my friends," he shouted exuberantly to the others. "These monsters have stolen years of our lives. Today, we claim our payment in full!"


	4. Chapter 4

Candlekeep?

Talon stared up at the familiar walls in confusion. He'd gone to sleep in his room in the Mithrest Inn, with Hendak snoring softly in the second bed. The freed slaves had stormed through the ship that had been converted into the slavers' headquarters, freeing the imprisoned children and killing all others without mercy. When it was done, a few of the slaves had declared that they were taking over the Copper Coronet as reparation for their imprisonment. Both the pit fights and Madam Nin's business, which had consisted mostly of slaves, had been ended, and arrangements were being made for the care of those children who could not be reunited with their families.

None of which explained what he was doing here.

"Trying to figure out why you're here?"

He raised his eyes to see her standing before him; she was as thin as she had been in the dungeon, and the scar over her eye was still present, but her clothes were clean and untorn, her hair neatly combed, falling to her shoulders and gleaming red-gold in the midday sun.

_Imoen!_ He wanted to call out, to run to her and sweep her into a bear hug, but found himself unable to move or speak.

She gave him an enigmatic smile. "Dreams are funny things, huh? You'd think that in your own dream, you'd be able to control what you said and did, where you went, who you saw…" She paused, then winked impishly at him. "Of course, maybe it's not your dream at all; maybe it's mine. What do you think?"

He blinked, but she continued, "Guess you can't tell me what you think, can you? Been doing a lot of thinking, myself." She looked at the walls of Candlekeep, then to the forests and fields that surrounded the library fortress. "We sure spent a lot of time out here, didn't we? Just you'n me…" She trailed off, then looked back at him. "Part of it was because there weren't any other kids, but I guess it was more than that. Fact is, I can't remember when there was anything besides 'us'."

Her brow creased in puzzlement. "It's strange," she said softly. "I know that Gorion brought me to Candlekeep when I was nine or so, but I don't remember anything about my life before here…before us."

Children's voices floated to his ears on the spring air, and Imoen turned with a smile as a boy and girl ran out of Candlekeep and into the trees. It was, Talon realized with no real surprise, himself and Imoen, as they had been perhaps ten years earlier. The children seemed utterly unaware of the presence of their older selves as the girl turned to the boy and slapped him lightly on the arm.

"You're it!" she crowed, darting into the forest with a laugh.

"I'm always it," the boy complained, closing his eyes and leaning against a large oak tree.

"That's 'cause you never find me!" she called back. "No peeking!"

"If I peeked, I'd have found you before now," he grumbled, but he kept his eyes shut as he began to count.

"I remember this day!" Imoen exclaimed, then looked sideways at him. "Do you?"

There was a brief vertigo, and suddenly he became aware of rough bark pressing into his forehead, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he counted, "Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" Pushing away from the tree, he shouted, "Ready or not, here I come!"

His awareness strangely bifurcated, Talon was his adult self, watching from within as the boy he had been set out into the forest, but he was also the boy, determined to find her this time.

Imoen had arrived in Candlekeep the previous fall, seated on a wagon beside Gorion, her eyes taking in everything around her with keen interest. Talon had been fully prepared to dislike the newcomer, who seemed likely to be a competitor for his father's attention, but the girl had attached herself to him instead, and within two weeks, the pair had become inseparable, turning the once quiet keep upside down as fall advanced into winter. The onset of spring had seen them shooed with increasing frequency out into the fields and forests by the affectionate but exasperated scholars eager to resume studies uninterrupted by endless questions and practical jokes.

Hide and seek was Imoen's favorite game, and one that she excelled at. Despite the fact that Talon had been roaming the land around Candlekeep for most of his young life, it was rare that he was able to locate her hiding places. Today would be different, though. He had found a book on tracking in the library last week, and had been reading from it each night. Today, _he_ would win!

Moving quickly to the last place he had seen her, he scanned the ground, his heart leaping as he saw the broken grass that marked her footsteps. Keeping his head down, he followed the trail, his eyes marking each overturned rock or disturbed branch with growing elation. So intent was he on what lay before him that he didn't hear her first cry.

"Talon!" The fear in her voice the second time brought his head up. Nothing scared Imoen…

He began to run in the direction of the cry, his pace increasing as he heard something else: a growling, unintelligible voice speaking a language that he did not recognize.

"Talon! Someone help me!" Imoen's voice sounded breathless, and he could hear her footsteps now, running toward him with something else close behind.

She burst from the trees fifty yards ahead of him, eyes wide and face pale. A goblin emerged right behind her, a clawed hand reaching out to snag her tunic and send her tumbling to the ground. Something bright flashed as the goblin lashed out at its victim, and Imoen screamed in pain.

"NO!" A red haze descended over Talon's vision, and his pulse thundered in his ears. He ran forward, snatching up a heavy branch as he did so. The goblin looked up in surprise, raising the bloody dagger, but Talon's swing knocked it off its feet, the blade flying from its hand to land in the grass several feet away. Talon never paused; raising the club high over his head, he brought it down on the snarling creature again and again. He was only ten, but he was tall and strong for his age, strengthened further by anger and fear, and the snarls quickly turned to screams, then ceased altogether.

"Talon!" Imoen's voice penetrated his rage. Letting the branch fall to the ground, he turned and dropped to his knees beside her.

"Immy? Are you okay?"

"It cut me," she said in a weak voice, her fingers touching the bloody tear in her tunic. "It was gonna kill me!"

"Not now," he said, lifting the tunic to look at the damage. To his relief, no loops of protruding intestine greeted his eyes. The cut was long but shallow, bleeding freely. "It'll be all right; Frendan'll be able to heal this right up."

"What about you?" Imoen blurted, staring at him with wide eyes. Looking down, Talon realized that his face, arms and tunic were splattered with blood and gore.

"Not mine," he said, glaring balefully in the direction of the dead goblin, as if daring it to attack again. "He won't hurt you again. C'mon, let's get you back."

He stood and held out a hand. Imoen took it, but winced as she tried to stand, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "It hurts to move," she said. "You'd better bring Frendan here."

"I'm not leaving you alone!" he said indignantly. "What if another goblin comes along…or a whole bunch of 'em?" Bending, he lifted her into his arms and straightened, surprised by how light she felt.

Despite her pain, Imoen giggled. "My hero!" she teased him, but there was a warm glow in her eyes, and she laid her head contentedly on his shoulder, heedless of the goblin blood.

Talon felt his face flush. He'd never been called a hero, never saved anyone, and he suddenly felt very strong, very brave, very protective. "I'll take care of you, Immy," he boasted. "I'll always be here to take care of you and protect you and love you!"

She smiled at him. "Promise?"

He returned the smile confidently. "I promise!"

As he turned and started back toward Candlekeep, Talon was struck again by vertigo, and when his vision steadied, he found himself back in his adult body, once again unable to speak or move.

"So…Talon…" Imoen turned to him, the look in her eyes making his breath catch in his throat.

"Where is my protector now?" she asked softly, sadly.

_I tried to stop them, Im!_ He protested silently, stricken by her words, her sorrow. _I tried, but I couldn't…_

"Will you still always be there for me?" she asked, taking a step closer to him, her grey eyes never leaving his. "To take care of me?"

Another step. He stared at her, mesmerized. "And protect me?"

Another step and she stood before him, searching his face with an unreadable expression. "And…love me?"

Her arms reached up to encircle his neck, drawing him down to her. Her lips pressed against his in the gentlest of kisses, her body leaning into him. He still couldn't move, even to respond to the kiss, but he could feel her trembling, feel her need, her hunger for his kiss, his touch. There was nothing sisterly about her right now…and nothing brotherly in the feelings that stirred within him.

He came awake in the darkness, his heart pounding, still able to feel the soft pressure of her body against his, taste the sweetness of her lips, and hear her voice.


	5. Chapter 5

"Talon? Talon!"

Yoshimo's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "Not awake yet." Though he had managed to eventually drift back to sleep, the memory of the unsettling dream was as clear and fresh as it had been when he had first woken from it. He could have simply chalked it up to guilt and worry but for the kiss; if he closed his eyes, he could still feel the touch of her lips on his, smell the springtime sweetness of her hair…

"Talon!" His eyes popped open; the Kara-Turan was regarding him with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Do you need to sleep a few more hours?"

"No." He shook his head, downing the last of his now lukewarm tea in three swallows and raising a hand to signal for another. "No, just didn't sleep well." He glanced at Hendak. "I hope I didn't keep you awake."

The warrior smiled and shook his head. "My first night of sleep as a free man? In a bed of my own instead of a floor in the corner of a cell? Nothing could have disturbed me, my friend."

"More nightmares?" Yoshimo asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Talon replied vaguely. "Same ones." He had freely disclosed his previous dreams to his friend, but he did not think that he would be able to discuss this one, even if Hendak were not present. A dull shame burned in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the rush of passion that the kiss had triggered and the arousal that had lingered long after he had awoken. She was his little sister, the only family that he had left and someone he had sworn to protect; he had no business harboring such unsavory impulses. He shook his head again, drinking from the mug that was set before him without bothering to sweeten it with honey. "I'll be fine; I just need to get moving, that's all." Draining the mug, ignoring the burn of the hot tea in his throat, he pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "Where to?"

"I think that the first order of business should be the clothing and equipping of our large companion," Yoshimo suggested, grinning at Hendak, whose broad chest was straining the seams of one of Talon's spare tunics. The northerner was a full half head taller than the younger warrior, and more powerfully muscled than even Minsc had been.

"That would be welcome," Hendak admitted with a rueful smile. "I regret spending our precious coin on such things, but I will be better able to aid you properly armed and armored."

"That's not an expense I would begrudge," Talon told him. "Besides, I think that our share of Lehtinan's loot should more than cover it, and he damn well owed it to you."

"His debt to me ended with his death," the warrior replied pragmatically, "and to be forgotten, any memory of him left in the dust, is his punishment. Let us not speak of him again."

"As you wish," Talon agreed, shouldering his pack, glad to be leaving the Mithrest at last.

They followed Yoshimo through the crowds that milled through the Promenade to a deceptively modest looking establishment marked only by a small wooden sign reading, "Adventurers' Mart". The interior of the place was enormous, boasting a selection of weapons, armor and supplies that Talon had never before seen, even in the shops of Baldur's Gate.

"First time customer?" A broad shouldered man with a long, puckered scar running down his neck and disappearing beneath his tunic approached Talon, his brown eyes friendly but shrewd.

Talon nodded. "The place doesn't look this big from the outside," he said, looking from the man back to a rack holding a dozen two-handed swords, then to Hendak, who was testing the weight of a wicked looking double-bladed battleaxe. There was no sign of Yoshimo. "Do you provide maps?"

The man chuckled, then glanced at Talon's sword. "May I?" he asked politely.

Talon carefully unsheathed the blade, passing it hilt-first to the man, who examined it with an appreciative eye. "A fine weapon," he said, passing it back to Talon, "and I'd be doing you a disservice to sell you any of those." He nodded toward the swords on the rack. "I do have better blades in stock, but you'd be parting with several thousand gold to get them."

"Can't afford that," Talon replied as he returned the sword to its scabbard, "but I appreciate the honesty." More than one merchant had mistaken his open expression for a lack of intelligence and attempted to cheat him (and, truth be told, he had been fleeced more than once in the early days, before his more experienced companions had taught him what to watch for).

"I plan on being in business here for a long time," the man told him. "You make more money by drawing back repeat customers than by cheating rubes. Ribald Barterman, at your service."

"Talon Gorionsson." Barterman's eyebrows raised slightly as Talon shook his outstretched hand.

"The one who brought down the Iron Throne?" he asked, then chuckled again at the young man's expression. "I'm not fool enough to believe all the rumors that I hear, lad, but I do hear quite a bit in my line of work." He hesitated, then added. "The rumors do generally mention a pair of Harpers working with you: Khalid and Jaheira?"

The hollow ache of loss returned with renewed force. "They're dead," he said curtly. "Do you know anything of a mage named Irenicus?"

"I hadn't before that fracas at the other end of the Promenade a few days ago," Ribald replied. "Still haven't heard much, though your Kara-Turan friend said that you were involved."

"Not by choice," Talon said bleakly. "He captured us, tortured us. He's the one who killed Khalid and Jaheira…others, too."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Barterman said with a regretful shake of his head. "I've never been overly fond of Harpers; they tend to be too nosy for my taste, but I worked with that pair once or twice in my younger days, and they were good, solid companions."

Talon nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. He stared down at the row of swords, seeing his grim expression reflected back in their steel. "How about the Cowled Wizards?" he asked at last. "What can you tell me about them?"

"Well, they pretty much control magic here in Athkatla," the merchant replied, his expression speaking as much as his words. "I wasn't surprised to hear they'd taken him. They don't take well to those who practice magic without paying them their bribe…excuse me, I meant 'permit fee', of course." He shook his head in disgust. "And his getting involved in the war between the thieves' guilds wouldn't go over well with them, either."

"Thieves' guilds?" Talon frowned in puzzlement. That explained the attack that had resulted in their escape, but not why Irenicus would insert himself into such a conflict. He had seemed utterly focused on his own goals, mysterious as they had been.

"Aye," Barterman confirmed. "The Shadow Thieves have kept a tight lock on most of the illegal dealings in town, but the last few weeks there have been rumors of another guild trying to push them aside…or maybe do more than push." He shrugged. "More bodies than usual turning up when the sun rises of late. From the descriptions, it was the Shadow Thieves who attacked this Irenicus, and they don't take such actions on an idle whim."

"A contract, perhaps?" Yoshimo suggested, appearing beside Talon with several bundles of arrows. "Mages and thieves do not generally mix well; it seems unlikely that he would involve himself with a guild, particularly one struggling to establish itself."

Ribald shook his head. "An assault like that is too overt for assassination. Aran Linvail wanted him dead for his own reasons, and he's not known for giving a damn about anything but business." He looked at Talon, his dark eyes serious. "From the looks of it, you're planning on wading into deep water, lad. The Cowled Wizards, the Shadow Thieves, this new guild. Not a place to get caught crosswise."

"No choice," Talon replied flatly. "When the wizards took Irenicus, they took my – my sister, as well."

"The girl?" the merchant asked, looking questioningly at Yoshimo, who nodded. "Well, revenge is one thing, but that's quite another. Don't suppose I'd try to talk you out of it, even if I could, but I'd still advise you to tread cautiously."

"I will," the young warrior assured him.

"And he does not walk alone," Hendak put in, stepping forward with the axe he had been evaluating. "This one will do nicely."

"Good choice," Ribald agreed, seemingly unaffected by the fact that his eyes were level with the towering northman's chest. "Now, let's see about getting you into some armor."

OOO

By the time they left Barterman's, they were several hundred gold lighter, but Hendak had obtained a good set of chainmail (he had refused plate, saying that it would hamper his movement), and properly fitting leather trousers, tunic and boots. The big man strode confidently beside Talon, clearly relishing his freedom, though his ice blue eyes never stopped scrutinizing the people around them, his challenging gaze causing more than one to step out of their path.

"Where to now?" Talon asked Yoshimo. The Kara-Turan had been quiet since the conversation in the Adventurers' Mart.

"The area around the docks is generally a good place to find adventuresome souls," he said, then cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I am afraid that I have been less than fully forthright with you, my friend."

The young warrior looked at his companion in confusion. "What do you mean, Yoshimo?"

"When I said that I had not been caught plying my skills in Athkatla, I meant by the authorities," Yoshimo explained, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I did, however, attract the notice of the Shadow Thieves the last time that I was here. They do not look favorably upon independent operators such as myself; while you were recovering at the Mithrest, one of their… representatives contacted me. I was told to report to Renal Bloodscalp, who oversees operations from their headquarters near the docks. I suspect they will wish me to perform some service for them in exchange for their previous leniency."

"What kind of service?" Hendak asked suspiciously. "I will not aid those who trade in slaves."

"Nothing like that, I'm sure," Yoshimo assured him, "although, to be honest, it is likely more a matter of practicality than scruples. Thieves generally prefer to ply their trade in goods that can be easily hidden and quickly sold." He glanced at Talon. "I could see to whatever they require of me alone, and I am hesitant to involve you in something that will undoubtedly be less than strictly legal…but if we prove ourselves useful, they may lower their price for locating Imoen."

Talon nodded slowly. "I wouldn't let you do it alone, anyway," he replied. "I owe you too much for that. We can at least see what they want, and the Corlatha house is near the docks, too." Whichever path brought him to Imoen the quickest was the one that he would take, he told himself grimly, but he would also do whatever he could to help the man who had sworn to help him.

Hendak looked dubious, but nodded his assent. "If they can assist us in locating your companion, then we should cooperate with them, but if they think to take advantage of us, they will regret the attempt."

Talon smelled the docks well before they reached them: first the faint tang of salt air, bringing back memories of Candlekeep and childhood explorations along the rocky beaches at the foot of the towering cliffs that the scholar's fortress perched atop. The similarity faded quickly as they drew nearer, however; instead of the crisp, fresh wind from the Sea of Swords, the scents of rotting fish, garbage and human waste quickly overwhelmed the smell of the ocean.

"Ah, the unfailing habit that men have of dumping their refuse into the nearest available ocean," Yoshimo exclaimed sardonically as they entered the upper part of the district, the cobblestoned street winding back and forth as it worked its way down to the waterfront. Dozens of ships lined the docks, their masts bristling skyward with sails furled. "One of the more endearing aspects of port cities."

Hendak spat in disgust, his blue eyes darkening. "The smell is not quite so bad as the slave ship that brought me here," he growled. "They kept us chained below decks, laying in our own filth for weeks. We had no choice, though; why anyone would willingly stay in such a stench…" He shook his head and followed Yoshimo.

The Kara-Turan approached a large, dilapidated looking warehouse, its walls painted a rusty color of orange that had long since begun to peel. A dubious looking set of stairs on one end led upward to a second and third level, and beside the door that they approached sat a bedraggled figure, his head resting on his arms, a half empty bottle sitting beside him. He raised his head, regarding them with bleary eyes as they approached, his gaze sharpening as it fell on Yoshimo.

"Go on in," he said in a low, perfectly sober voice. "Renal is expecting you."

Inside, multiple pairs of eyes watched them as Yoshimo led them confidently through a maze of partitions and stacked crates. Talon, his nerves on edge, tried to take note of their path, his eyes falling on numerous blind alleys and seemingly random piles of crates that could serve as barricades. The whole of the interior, it seemed, had been designed to assist the occupants in repelling invaders. A glance sideways at Hendak told him that the northman was also taking stock of their surroundings, his nostrils flared as though he were trying to scent danger.

Turning a corner, they entered an area that had been partitioned into a large room. Rows of tables filled the room, covered with a variety of items, from jewelry to books to weapons and armor. A man stood at one of the tables, sorting through the items on it with an appraising eye. He was of medium height, his clothes nondescript, his build more wiry than muscular, but it was plain from the alert but subservient demeanors of the two men flanking him, as well as the nervous way the men and women standing beside each table regarded him, that he was one of some stature in the organization.

"Junk…junk…worse than junk," he murmured, picking up items as he spoke and tossing them aside, finishing by flipping an expensive looking jeweled brooch at a sweaty faced young man who looked ready to faint. "These 'gems' are glass, Ashter," he said with a disparaging shake of his head. "The whole lot isn't worth the effort it would take to fence it. Your next haul had better show a marked improvement in quality if you expect to continue with us."

"Yes, sire," the young thief said, swallowing hard as he gathered up his rejected offerings, stuffing them hastily in a burlap bag.

At a murmured comment from one of those beside him, the man looked up, a smile crossing his face as his eyes fell on Yoshimo…the smile of a wolf looking upon a rabbit in a snare.

"My, my," he said jocularly. "If it isn't the freelancer, Yoshimo, come to see me at last. I had nearly thought that the streets had opened up and swallowed you whole, dear lad."

"I am so pleased that you gave any thought at all to my well-being, sire," Yoshimo replied with a slight bow. "It is always good to be remembered by one's peers."

Cool grey eyes creased in amusement, and the smile turned condescending. "Well now, that would imply that you were one of my peers, as opposed to a rag-tag independent infringing on our territory, Yoshi."

"Yoshimo, if you please, sire," the Kara-Turan replied with another nervous bow. "Where I come from, such a pet name is only used by…well, let us say that you and I have not become so familiar just yet, hm?" Talon glanced toward his companion, surprised by the servile, almost obsequious, tone in his friend's voice.

"Point taken," the man said, leaning back against the table and surveying the three of them with seemingly lazy confidence, although Talon noticed that his left hand never strayed far from the dagger sheathed at his hip as his right hand supported his weight against the table. _Either an off-hand fighter or ambidextrous, _Khalid's voice whispered in his mind, the stutter gone as it always was when he taught the young warrior. _The dagger's likely balanced for throwing._ "Have you finally come to pay your debt for your recent activities, or are we to simply trade barbs until I am forced to do something hideous?" His voice was light, almost playful, but there was steel in the gleam of his grey eyes.

"I have come as you have commanded, sire," Yoshimo said, bowing for a third time. "You have a task for me?"

"You can begin by ceasing that idiotic bobbing," he drawled. "I stay off of ships to avoid being subjected to such motion, so I damn well don't care to see it on dry land. If you want to kiss my ass, figure out a way to do it standing still. As for your task," his gaze wandered back to Talon. "I believe that you have fulfilled it admirably. Your traveling companion is of interest and you have brought him before me. My thanks."

Talon returned the gaze, his expression blank, but Hendak growled and moved between them. "You will not harm him while I live," he threatened, one hand on the hilt of his massive axe.

Yoshimo likewise shifted closer to Talon, his expression uneasy. "You…will not endanger him, sire? It would be a dark stain upon my honor if my companion was brought to danger because of my debt."

"No, no. Nothing like that, I assure you," the man replied with a careless wave of his hand. "That is truly an evil looking weapon, my friend," he said in a conversational tone to Hendak. "Have you ever beheaded anyone with it?"

"Not yet," the northman said ominously, "and I am _not_ your friend!"

"Not yet," the thief echoed, though his tone was amused instead of ominous, "but neither are you my enemy, nor I yours, although I suspect that might change rather quickly if you were to unsling that axe and start decapitating your way through our headquarters. I assure you that I bear none of you any ill will, least of all your young companion." He cleared his throat meaningfully. "Would it be possible for you to move aside so that I could speak to him? You are an excellent shield, but somewhat less suitable as a window."

Hendak glowered at the man, but stepped to one side. Glancing around, Talon realized that the other thieves in the room had drawn closer, their expressions alert, their hands hovering close to their weapons. As Hendak stepped away, they relaxed visibly; Talon felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle, and he knew without looking that more than one crossbow had been aimed at their backs.

The man studied Talon appraisingly. "You'll have to excuse me if I stare, as you're not quite what I was expecting. From all I have been told, I was expecting someone…different."

"Ten feet tall, breathing fire?" Talon asked in a weary voice, wishing that at least one bard had sought him out for the truth of the matter before composing their damn sagas and ballads. "You're a fool if you put that much stock in rumor," he said bluntly.

The other chuckled. "Yes, I've heard that version, as well as countless others, but I pride myself on being able to separate fact from fiction. You must understand, naturally, that an organization like mine thrives on information above all else. He who is ignorant quickly becomes a target, and all that, and inaccurate information can be worse than no information at all."

"Who exactly are you?" Talon asked challengingly. "The leader of the Shadow Thieves, I presume?"

"My name is Renal, as I'm sure you've been told. Renal 'Bloodscalp'…a little nickname I've earned over time. Rather grisly, but it keeps the fearful in line. As an aside, I am not the 'leader' of the Shadow Thieves as you perhaps mean, but I lead enough that it makes no difference to you."

"So, you work for Aran Linvail, then?" Talon guessed, watching the other man's face closely.

If Renal was surprised, he gave no sign of it. "I do," he agreed, "but if you're thinking that I have any influence over the matter of finding your friend, you'd be sadly mistaken. The Shadowmaster has involved himself in that for reasons of his own, and I'm not fool enough to risk interfering there."

Talon nodded slowly. "I thank you for that honesty," he said at last. Bloodscalp could have used false promises to string him along, though he suspected that the fact that the thief did not do so indicated a healthy respect for his superior, rather than any altruistic tendencies. "What is it that you wish of me, then?"

"Right to the point, eh?" Renal nodded once in satisfaction. "Refreshing. I am sick of underlings who shift from foot to foot. I find a bit of directness to be a nice change. To be short, Gaelan recommended you, and I trust his word. I am in need of mercenaries to perform a particular task, and I suspect that you are just the one to do it."

"Why mercenaries?" Talon asked, glancing around them. "Why not one of your thieves?"

"A fair question," Renal replied affably. "Any of my available assassins or thieves are quite capable, and on a normal day I would not consider it necessary to look beyond my guild. In this one instance, however, my men are limited. I need someone of skill who is not one of the Shadow Thieves…someone more or less unknown to us. Someone, I trust, like yourself."

Talon shook his head. "I'm no assassin." There were, he realized, limits that he could not bring himself to overstep in his search for Imoen…not if he was going to be able to look her in the eye when he found her.

"Oh, no need for that," Renal assured him. "My assassins also frequently serve as procurers of information, since their traditional functions frequently require them to learn the habits of their targets. No, I simply need information from a source who is familiar with my usual operatives."

Talon glanced at Yoshimo, who gave a barely visible shrug. "If you know about Imoen and my arrangement with your leader," he said, "then you also know that I am in need of a large sum of gold. What would I be paid for this task?"

"Ah yes, we all arrive at this point eventually," Renal said with a knowing smile. "What's in it for you? Well, this is a rather delicate task, so I am inclined to be generous. Shall we say two thousand gold?"

"Generous, indeed," Talon murmured, noticing the surprised lift of Yoshimo's eyebrows. "Generous enough that I think I should get a few more details before agreeing to anything."

"A reasonable desire, as it's going to be your neck on the line," Renal agreed readily. "One of my guildhouses to the south is run by a rather ambitious fellow named Mae'Var. Good thief, but I never liked him. Now I know why. I've had some hints that he is getting too big for himself. Thinking of taking my place, I suspect, but I've had no real evidence to say that this is so. Now, you're likely thinking: why not just eliminate him? Yes, yes, I suppose I could. But without proof of betrayal, this would anger the other guildmasters and then I'd have a war on my hands and, well, just let it lie that I don't want that."

"You mean that your Shadow Master does not want it," Hendak observed, eyeing the thief with distaste.

"One and the same, if I want to keep my present position _and_ my head…and in case you're having trouble guessing, the answer is a resounding 'YES' to both," Bloodscalp replied, unaffected by the warrior's disdain. "So, where was I?" he muttered. "Oh, yes. Your part in this. I would like you to go to Mae'Var and join his guild. I will give you papers saying you were being transferred by the Shadow Master. You will spy on Mae'Var from the inside and find me the evidence that I need. You'll need to reassure Mae'Var, naturally. He won't know who you are, but I am confident that you are more than capable of this. What say you? Interested?"

"And once I have this evidence?" Talon wanted to know.

"You simply bring it to me, and I will handle matters from there," Renal replied. "That _does_ mean that I will kill him, mind you, but you can console yourself with the knowledge that he would have done the same to me, given the chance."

Talon looked questioningly from Yoshimo to Hendak. It was a fine line: killing a man as opposed to providing information that led to his death.

"What if we can find no evidence?" the northman demanded.

Bloodscalp shrugged. "It'll be there; I'd bet my left testicle on it…well, maybe Arthan's left testicle," he amended with a sly wink at the taller of his bodyguards, "but if you find nothing, I certainly don't expect you to fabricate. For an honest effort – if you'll pardon the pun – I'll pay one thousand gold. Agreed?"

Talon met his eyes. Only half if they found nothing. Enough of a carrot to bribe him into falsification if he were so inclined, while still a tidy enough sum to be worth the effort if he was not. "Agreed," he said simply.

"Excellent! I knew this would work out for the best. In case you are wondering, Yoshimo," he said, turning his attention back to the Kara-Turan, "this will ease your 'freelance' activity debts. So long as you help Talon, they will be overlooked…for now."

Talon frowned. "For good," he insisted.

"Talon…" Yoshimo said warningly, but Renal simply looked at him thoughtfully before nodding.

"For good, then," he agreed, holding up a forestalling finger, "as long as you do not repeat your offences."

"You are too kind to me, sire." Yoshimo started to bow, visibly reconsidered, then settled for a polite nod.

"Yes, I know," the thief replied dismissively as he turned back to Talon. "The first part that needs to be taken care of, naturally, is finding the evidence on Mae'Var. Here are the papers you need to present to Mae'Var's men to gain access. I'm sure I don't have to tell you to be careful, do I? No, I didn't think so. Just head to the storefront in the central Docks area and speak to the storekeeper, Gorch. Show the papers to him and he'll let you in the guildhouse proper. Work for Mae'Var as long as it takes to collect your evidence, and bring whatever you can find to me. I'll be waiting to receive it most eagerly."

As they left, Yoshimo glanced at Talon. "It was risky to demand the permanent removal of my debts," he said, "but I thank you for it, my friend."

"It just wasn't right for them to be able to keep holding it over your head whenever they wanted to," Talon replied with a shrug.

"That assumes, of course, that this Bloodscalp will keep his word," Hendak put in, glancing balefully over his shoulder at the warehouse.

"He will," Yoshimo replied. "Honor among thieves may be a clichéd notion, but it has its roots in practicality. Every man and woman there heard his words; if he breaks his agreement with you, who is to say that he would not break trust with any one of them? Such a leader would not last long."

"This Mae'Var apparently has no such restraint," Talon observed.

"And he will suffer the penalty for it," Yoshimo replied with a pragmatic shrug. "The Shadow Thieves are a very tightly structured organization…one of the reasons that they have prospered, and anyone who threatens that structure will not be tolerated. This is an excellent opportunity, Talon. Regardless of what Renal said, a favorable performance can only help our position with Aran Linvail. Remember, though, that you must act as a loyal guild member at all times or our cover will be destroyed."

Talon nodded with no real enthusiasm. There were some things that he simply would not do…could not do, and if that meant that it took longer for them to gather the money that they needed, then that was how it would have to be. "Let's see if we can find the Corlatha house first," he suggested. If that task could be accomplished quickly, there was a chance, however small, that the Cowled Wizards would free Imoen. Then, they could do only as much as was needed to eliminate Yoshimo's obligation to the Shadow Thieves and be gone from this damned city.

Yoshimo nodded, his expression showing that he guessed Talon's thoughts. "The local merchants should have some idea of who the residents are." Glancing around, he made his way toward a line of stalls with Talon and Hendak following him.


	6. Chapter 6

"I shouldn't be talking to you," Hervo muttered, shaking his head worriedly. "I don't know where Master Corthala has gone to; I swear it!" The servant had let them into the Corthala house, albeit reluctantly, but even the most delicately phrased queries had alarmed him, and he had quickly surmised that the Cowled Wizards were involved. "You should leave him alone! He killed no one; I don't care what those two wizards of yours say!"

"I'm not one of the Cowled Wizards," Talon replied emphatically. "They asked me to find your master, but I'm not about to turn another innocent over to them. What happened?"

"They came here two weeks ago, demanding to see Master Corthala," the elderly fellow said, wringing his hands together in distress. "They went upstairs with him, but they were talking so loud I could hear them as clear as if they were right beside me!. They demanded that the master do something, and he refused. I remember poor Master Corthala was so upset he was shouting, he was. There was a loud crash…fighting, I suppose, and then the wizards came back down the stairs alone, not a scratch on them. They said Valygar had committed murder and must pay, but –" he looked at them pleadingly. "They said nothing about any murder when they were arguing with him! I think they were just angry because Master Corthala had slipped away from them. Do you think the master is alright?"

"If they're asking us to look for him, then they obviously don't have him," Talon assured him, feeling his hopes of a cut and dried bounty hunt draining away, "and I won't be looking for him, either. The wizards have already proven that they don't give a damn about guilt or innocence."

Hervo's face melted into an expression of relief. "Oh, thank you, young sir!" he exclaimed, grabbing Talon's hand and shaking it vigorously. "You've no idea how worried I've been since he's been gone, and what with the poor reputation the Corthalas have here in Athkatla, I've had no one to ask."

"Poor reputation?" Yoshimo regarded him with an expression of polite curiosity. "Why is that?"

"The Corthalas have always had a talent for magic, you know," Hervo explained, as though repeating common knowledge. "Many dangerous sorcerers in the line…a bad thing in Athkatla. Not Master Corthala himself, of course," he added quickly. "He's never shown any interest in magic, which is why I can't figure out what those wizards could possibly have wanted from him. He barely comes to Athkatla at all since his parents…died." A look of distress crossed the old man's face and was gone.

"So the family had other holdings?" the Kara-Turan inquired casually, ignoring Talon's warning glance and Hendak's glare.

The old man nodded, seeming to have completely forgotten that they had come here seeking just such information. "Aye, they've a country house in the Umar Hills, and Master Corthala has friends amongst the woodsmen and rangers there; he was always happiest in the forest. If he's anywhere, he's there."

"That may be, but I don't recommend that you mention that to anyone else," Talon told him, adding as the old man's eyes widened in sudden horror, "I said that we won't be looking for him, and I meant it." His eyes locked with those of Yoshimo, who simply nodded.

"What was that about?" he demanded in a low voice as they stepped onto the street.

"Keeping our options open," Yoshimo replied seriously. "The truth of such matters usually lies somewhere in between one version and the other. I'm not suggesting that we hunt him down, but the knowledge may prove useful, should other facts be revealed in the future."

"He is right," Hendak agreed with some reluctance. "Many of the Cowled ones watched and wagered as we fought for our lives; I have no fondness for them, but we know nothing of this Corthala. If we find later that he is not so innocent as his servant claims, we have some notion of where he may be found."

Talon nodded, though the notion of betraying his word to the old man, who plainly believed that his master was wrongly accused, sat heavily on him. "All right," he said, "but I'll not waste more time in trying to ferret out the truth of the matter right now. Let's find this Mae'Var's guildhouse and see what is to be done there."

They followed the winding cobblestone street downward to the docks, the boisterous sounds of revelry from the inn competing with the cries of the street vendors selling everything from fresh fish to weapons to perfumes from lands that Talon had never heard of.

"There it is," Yoshimo murmured, nudging him and nodding toward a nondescript looking storefront. The interior was deserted, the shelves sparsely stocked with goods that looked to be of highly questionable quality, and the rotund fellow behind the counter eyed them sullenly.

"We're here to see Mae'Var," Talon told the man as he approached.

"Who?" Tiny, close set eyes peered out at him from a doughy face without a flicker of recognition.

Talon simply slid the papers that Bloodscalp had given him across the counter, waiting in silence while the man scanned them.

"Through there," he grunted, jerking a thumb toward the door directly behind him and shoving the papers back into Talon's hand.

"No wonder this place has no customers," Hendak muttered as he followed Talon.

"I suspect that is as they want it," Yoshimo observed. "Too much legitimate business might hamper their real activities."

The room beyond was furnished much more comfortably, with padded leather chairs and sofas arranged in front of a fireplace. Three men sat at a table throwing dice; they looked up as the newcomers entered, and one, a short, wiry fellow with a shock of red hair stood, his left eye that rolling outward slightly as the right fixed them with a suspicious glare.

"Who're you?" he demanded pugnaciously, swaggering toward him in a manner that Talon had seen all too regularly. His height seemed compel shorter men to challenge him, and having Hendak at his side seemed to make it worse.

"I'm Talon," he replied, neither rising to the challenge nor backing down. "Yoshimo and Hendak," he added, turning his head to acknowledge each man in turn. "We're reinforcements, sent by the Bloodscalp," he added, using the title for Renal that he had heard uttered by several in the warehouse headquarters.

One of the two men still seated gave a snort. "That was damn fast. Lin's not even cold yet."

"He will be, soon enough," the redhead sneered, taking a half step closer until his upturned chin was almost touching Talon's chest. "I'm Zyntris. And let's just get this straight, now, so there's no mistaking it later, alright? I'm the senior cutpurse. Me…not nobody else. Try to slide in on me and I'll stick ya. Got it?"

"Do I look like a pickpocket?" Talon replied amiably, holding up his large, callused hands for inspection.

Zyntris smirked. "Not likely with those paws," he conceded with a chuckle, visibly relaxing as he stepped away. "You'd best report to Mae'Var before he finds out you're here; he don't like surprises."

"Where can I find him?" Talon asked, thankful yet again that Khalid had taught him more than how to swing a sword or his fists.

"Cellar," the thief replied, nodding toward a staircase leading downward. "He's been down there with Lin for the last hour, so you might want to hurry. If the poor bastard dies, he might decide to play with one of you next."

The other two laughed, but it was an oddly mirthless sound, and there was an unmistakable 'better-you-than-me' look in their eyes as Talon and his companions descended the stairs. They found themselves in a small room filled with crates, but Yoshimo quickly located a hidden release that caused one wall to swing inward, muffled screams becoming audible and the stench of blood and burnt flesh strong in the air.

They walked between two rows of cells, the gaunt, hollow-eyed occupants shrinking back as they passed, and found themselves standing in a small but well stocked torture chamber. Two men stood by impassively as a third drew a red-hot iron from the fire behind him and touched it to the abdomen of the man strapped naked to the table before him, producing a hissing stream of smoke and an even stronger smell of charring. The prisoner howled around the gag in his mouth and thrashed against his restraints briefly before collapsing back to the table.

"I certainly hope you've got a reason to be bothering me," the man said calmly as he turned to place the iron back into the flames "because I'm quite busy, as you can see." He glanced down at the table. "But as it seems that Lin has passed out, I've a few minutes to spare." He leaned on the table, his expression serene, almost pleasant. "Who are you and why shouldn't I kill you?"

He was a bit taller than Zyntris, with a compactly muscular build and an almost lazy demeanor that put Talon in mind of a viper basking in the sun, the smile on his face never reaching his grey eyes as he took the measure of each of them in turn.

"Reinforcements sent by Renal Bloodscalp," Talon replied. He started to offer the papers that Renal had provided, but the man waved them off.

"If you've made it this far alive, your paperwork is undoubtedly in order, but that is irrelevant." He eyed them shrewdly. "I am Mae'Var, as you have undoubtedly guessed, and the ultimate say in who works in this guildhall rests with me. How about we throw you on the rack and make sure you are who you say you are? Or perhaps the brands instead?" He glanced down at the trail of deep burns leading down the unconscious man's chest toward his groin.

"Torture obtains nothing but what the torturer wishes to hear," Hendak spat, eyeing him with open contempt.

"Not if one is very good at it, and I assure you, I am," the man replied coolly, his eyes traveling over the massive warrior significantly. "Still, the main benefit is the fear that such punishments instill in others. It's fear that'll keep you honest, if you don't want to end up like Lin, here."

"Better that he die an honest man than live as a liar and endanger us all," Yoshimo said quickly, a subtle nudge of his foot warning Talon to hold his tongue.

"A man after my own heart," Mae'Var smirked, "though I must say that your companions do not seem to share your sentiments. I think a test is in order to see if they have sufficient nerve to be of use to me. Something simple, to test your worth and pad our coffers." He tapped a finger on his chin, pretending to think before his eyes gleamed slyly. "How about a little petty larceny amidst the stuffed robes over at the Talos temple? The Weathermistress wears a lovely if somewhat ostentatious amulet that would look smashing around the neck of my favorite hound. You needn't even kill her to take it, assuming that you are capable of a bit of rudimentary stealth. She likely removes it at night; it'd leave a welt the size of a melon if she tried to sleep in it."

He eyed them expectantly. "Well? I've given you your mark; don't come back to me without the goods if you expect to be employed in this guildhall." His attention turned back to the man on the table, who stirred with a pained moan. "Ah, welcome back, Lin! We were just discussing what a wonderful object lesson you are providing. No doubt your mother told you that you'd never amount to anything; I'm sure she'd be proud at the service you're giving to your fellow man." He cocked his head as the wretched figure moaned again. "What was that? The soles of the feet? Excellent idea!" He turned to retrieve another iron from the fire, then glanced back at Talon and his companions. "Were you wanting to watch, or are you actually planning on providing a pleasant surprise and following orders you've been given?"

"The necklace will be in your hands before morning, sire," Yoshimo assured him, bowing low as he backed from the room gesturing for Talon and Hendak to follow him. At the top of the stairs, they encountered a tall woman with silvery blonde hair and sultry green eyes.

"Why, hello there." Her lips pursed as she looked the three of them over boldly, her eyes lingering longest on Talon. "New faces…how very thrilling."

"We're reinforcements, ma'am," Talon managed, unnerved by the open appraisal in her gaze. "Sent by Renal Bloodscalp."

"Ma'am? That makes me sound so old," she replied with an exaggerated pout, stepping back slightly to sweep her eyes over them, making certain that they got a good look at the way her grey leather vest and trousers clung to her lithe frame at the same time. "You may call me Anishai, but only once you have given me your names, my darlings."

"I am Hendak," the northman replied, returning her brazen scrutiny, looking almost amused at her demeanor. "My companions are Talon and Yoshimo."

"Talon," she purred, running the fingers of one hand up his chest to tilt his eyes toward hers. "How utterly delicious. I shall recite it over and over to myself in-between each of our meetings. Which, I do hope, will not be too far between, hm?"

"I…we need to go," he mumbled, blushing bright red. "We have a task to complete for Mae'Var."

"Don't we all," Anishai murmured, her full lips curving into a knowing smile at his all too obvious embarrassment. "Try not to take too long, my shy one; I'll be counting the minutes." Turning, she left them, her hips rolling seductively at each step.

"Well now, it looks as though you have made a friend, Talon," Yoshimo observed with a sly grin.

Zyntris snorted before Talon could clear his mind sufficiently to form a protest. "That one is no one's friend but her own," he sneered. "She's the best assassin Mae'Var's got, but if you bed her, you'd do well to count all your parts the next mornin'; she's crazy enough to slice off some bits and pieces as souvenirs."

"Just because she tried to carve out yer tripes, Zyntris," one of the other men started to sneer, but cut off at a deadly glance from the redhead.

"She'd do it to anyone," the cutpurse growled threateningly, glaring at Talon as if he were the one who had spoken, "so watch yourself if you're thinking to crawl between those legs."

"You would do well to heed the thief's warning, my friend," Hendak advised him as they stepped back onto the street. "Such a woman lives for the trouble she can cause; I have seen the type before."

"He may not have a choice," Yoshimo replied with a shake of his head. "Our lives depend upon maintaining our deception, and it would be highly unusual if at least one of us did not respond to her invitation." He shrugged with a raffish grin. "It would be my honor to undertake such a duty, but her attentions seem to be focused on Talon."

"But if I say no –" Talon began, but the Kara-Turan cut him off.

"I do not recommend offending an assassin," he said soberly, "particularly one of questionable sanity. We will complete our work here and be done as quickly as we can; in the meanwhile, I suggest that you humor her."

Talon regarded him dubiously. Anishai was undeniably attractive, but there was something predatory beneath her coquettish façade that unnerved him almost as much as had the whores on the Bridge. "Hendak?"

The northman shook his head. "You must make your own decision on this matter. Yoshimo's words have merit, and she is a beauty, but you will need caution whichever path you take."

Talon nodded slowly, then looked questioningly at the big man. "Would you…well…you know? I mean, if it was you that she…?" He was blushing again; he knew what Jaheira or Dynaheir would have to say on the matter.

"Not willingly, though not for any of the reasons that I have given you." The warrior's ice blue eyes softened. "My wife awaits me in my homeland; I will not return to her sullied by the touch of another."

"Your wife?" Talon regarded him in surprise. "You never told us that you were married!" He hesitated, looking troubled. "Shouldn't you be trying to get home then? How long have you been gone?"

"Five years, three months and fourteen days," Hendak replied simply. "She was pregnant with our firstborn when I left on the raid that resulted in my capture."

"And you haven't seen her since?" Talon was baffled by the northerner's calm mien. "Hendak, you should go to her; she must think you're dead by now!" He was loathe to part with his companion, not only because of his formidable fighting skill, but he could not in conscience keep him while –

Hendak shook his head. "Such is not the way of my people. Until she has seen my body, she will not consider me dead, nor I her, and I could no more return to her having left a lifedebt unpaid than having lain with another woman. I will remain with you until your quest ends, and then I will rejoin her. Let us go."

Turning, he strode purposefully up the winding street toward the tunnel out of the Docks District. Talon exchanged a glance and a shrug with Yoshimo, then followed.

The theft was accomplished with almost ludicrous ease by Yoshimo, who was in and out of the Talassian temple in minutes, bringing with him a necklace bearing an amulet the size of a saucer: ornately graven gold set in the center with a black opal the size of Talon's fist, storms seeming to swirl within its shimmering depths.

"This is no dog's collar," Hendak muttered darkly, gesturing for Yoshimo to get the thing out of sight. "The stone alone will fetch a king's ransom for Mae'Var."

"Not here, it won't," the Kara-Turan said gravely, tucking the amulet into his shirt. "Even without the rest of the amulet, the stone is far too distinctive to sell in Amn."

"Is it magic?" Talon whispered as they strode through the darkened streets of the Temple District. He glanced back, wondering where the temple of Torm might be, but knowing that now was not the time to go searching.

"No idea," Yoshimo shrugged. "A mage would be useful, but the Cowled Wizards require five thousand gold for a license to use magic within the city; failure to do so will result in arrest and confinement in Spellhold…and don't even think about it," he warned Talon, catching the sudden gleam in the younger man's eye. "Even I cannot escape a cell secured with magical wards."

Talon sighed resignedly. Five thousand gold would leave them with little more than coppers in their possession, so they were unlikely to secure the services of a mage any time in the near future. He knew that his friend was right about Spellhold, too, despite the wild, irrational hope that had surged in him at realizing that there was such an easy way to reach the destination they sought. The Cowled Wizards could not be trusted to listen to anything but gold…just like everyone else in this damned city.

His spirits were low as they returned to Mae'Var's guildhouse, and did not improve when they were told that Mae'Var had already retired and had left explicit instructions that he was not to be disturbed.

"I thought that thieves were most active at night," Hendak observed in visible disgust.

"Rank has its privileges," Yoshimo replied with a shrug, gesturing at the nearly empty rooms that they walked through, finally reaching a dining room. "A guildmaster may sleep when he chooses, as long as he ensures that his underlings meet the quotas that he is assigned."

"The whole guild could sleep for a month with what we stole tonight," Hendak spat, dropping into a chair that creaked ominously beneath him. Talon seated himself more cautiously, while Yoshimo disappeared into the kitchen, emerging shortly with three pewter goblets and an open bottle of wine.

"As such, I'm sure that he would not begrudge us a victory toast," he said, setting goblets before Hendak and Talon and raising his own.

"Victory will be had when this vile man meets the justice that his actions merit," the northman growled, draining the contents of his goblet in three swallows without bothering to join Yoshimo's toast.

"Not even when we seem to be alone, my friend," Yoshimo warned him, glancing about cautiously as he refilled the goblet. "Places such as this thrive on lurking about, gathering information to elevate yourself at the expense of others."

Talon had raised his glass halfheartedly before downing his own wine, feeling the heat kindle in his stomach and spread outward as his two companions continued to talk, Yoshimo turning the conversation to more innocuous subjects. By the second glass, a warm haze had enveloped him, but his mood was still bleak, and he followed in silence as Yoshimo led them upstairs, leaving him in a small room furnished with a narrow bed and a chest with a small brass key in the lock.

Closing the door behind him, he stripped out of his armor and clothes, placing them and his pack within the chest and sliding the key beneath the thin mattress and slipping his sword beneath the bed before stretching out beneath the sheets.

He found himself unable to sleep, however. Wine (or any alcohol, for that matter) normally made him drowsy; instead, he found himself in the grip of an odd restlessness, his mind floating while the heat that had begun earlier still shifted within him, settling slowly in his loins. He stirred uncomfortably as he felt himself stiffening, memories of the brazen women on the bridge, the seductive waitress in the Coronet, the beautiful but unsettling assassin swirling through his mind unbidden.

_There's no shame in it, my boy, _Gorion had assured him the first time he'd caught the youth trying to hide his bedclothes. _It's simply a natural function of your body._

He'd had similar discussions with Khalid over the course of their travels, but it still felt wrong to be experiencing such needs so soon after the deaths of his friends, and with Imoen still missing. The dream tried to nudge its way to the front of his mind, but he shoved it away ruthlessly, allowing thoughts of the other women to take its place. His eyes drifted closed as, with a mixture of reluctance and anticipation, he allowed his hand to slide downward, beneath his undergarment; the necessity was not one that he relished, but he was not going to be able to sleep in his current state, which showed no signs of abating on its own.

"That would be quite a waste," a voice breathed, almost in his ear. His eyes flew open; he'd not even heard the door open and shut, and in the dim moonlight from the single narrow window, he could discern nothing until Anishai shed the dark, hooded robe that she wore, her hair and skin pale against the shadows of the room.

"What-" He tried to sit up, but she reacted with a swift agility that her movements had only hinted at before, slipping between the sheets and sealing his lips with her own, her tongue darting into his mouth without preamble. He put a hand up, his mind still feeling strangely adrift, meaning to push her away, but found himself instead cupping the softness of a bare breast as skillful fingers encircled him and began to stroke firmly, obliterating his half-formed thoughts of refusal.

OOO

Much later, the door to the small room eased open and shut again as Anashai stepped into the hallway, once more clad in her robe. She made her way downstairs, to the lone man sitting before the fireplace.

"He was a virgin, wasn't he?" she asked, her smile lazy and self satisfied..

"Was," Yoshimo agreed, his own expression giving no clue to his thoughts. "I trust that you relieved him of that condition?"

"Repeatedly," she assured him with a throaty chuckle. "It's a rare treat to be the first to sample such a delectable morsel; almost worth doing for free. Almost," she added pointedly.

The Kara-Turan nodded and dropped the coins into her outstretched hand. "There's more if you keep him thusly occupied every night," he said, not bothering to add that their stay here would not be an extended one.

"Not what I would consider an onerous chore," she drawled, the coins vanishing into her robe. "Consider it done." She gave him a sly glance. "What is your interest in this, my dear? Fantasizing about that marvelously tight ass of his and figuring this is the closest you'll get?"

He forced a smirk. "Traveling with all that earnest innocence was getting tiresome. Now that he knows what to do with a woman, hopefully he won't get so scandalized when I decide to do a bit of wenching of my own."

The answer seemed to satisfy her, for she left, a low laugh trailing in her wake. He remained where he was, staring into the dying flames. His instructions were clear: he was to corrupt the youth as subtly but as thoroughly as possible, bringing the taint within him closer to the surface. A part of him despised this deception and his role in it, yearned to simply challenge his sister's killer outright and live or die honorably, but he had given his word, not only to Irenicus, to bring the Bhaalspawn to him for justice, but also to Talon, swearing that he would see him reunited with Imoen.

What happened afterward was none of his concern, he told himself, wishing that he could believe it as he once had.


End file.
